


Arsonist's Lullabye

by cinthiajai



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, background feysand, because i love her so much, illyrian nesta, nesta focused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinthiajai/pseuds/cinthiajai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn’t notice that Nesta was growing wings until a couple of days after her transition. They sent her through every doctor in the Night Court and they all said the same things: the wings were permanent and there was nothing they could do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Nesta first fell in the Cauldron she tried holding her breath. She told herself she would fight with everything she has and that included her dying before being turned into one of _them_. Although it didn’t seem so from the outside, the Cauldron was very large and Nesta tried her damndest to swim to the top but she kept getting pulled back…

 _You can’t pull back from this, you can’t fight me_ , the Cauldron seemed to be telling her.

Nesta felt like giving up for a second, but then remembered Cassian standing before her. A bastard who never stopped fighting. A bastard warrior so selfless he was willing to lay his life for hers.

_All I see is a bored and spoiled girl..._

Nesta opened her mouth and screamed. I’ll prove him wrong. I will prove _everyone_ wrong. I can and I will.

 _Come quietly child_ , the Cauldron said,  _there is nothing you can do to change your fate_.

 _Fight me_ , Nesta yelled.

Fire burned in her veins but she only thought of the bastard warrior who had never stopped fighting.

Nesta awoke with a gasp. The room she was in was unfamiliar and it took her a moment to remember the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Being stolen in the middle of the night by strangers, being shoved and carted around, being thrown into the Cauldron, Elain being thrown into the cauldron…

Fae. They were fae now.

Nesta tried to take long even breaths. She needed to be able to think straight. She looked down at her fingers grasping the covers. They were long and graceful. Not her human fingers, but her fingers nonetheless.

Nesta had always heard that fae had a superior sense of hearing and she took a moment to close her eyes and take everything in. Amongst the silence she heard -or felt- a person sitting in the chair next to her. They smelled like danger and leather. It was a smell she remembered well.

She opened her eyes once more to inspect her hands. “Cassian,” the figure next to her was startled she could _smell_ that in the air. She smirked and then remembered seeing Cassian in a pool of his own blood. His wings were completely torn apart and she remembered his hand reaching out for her… She wondered if his wings will heal.

“Where’s Elain?” She asked, her voice cracking as if she hadn’t used it in a while.

“In this same hall. She hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s seemed fine so far.”

For a second Nesta remembered the powerlessness she felt as she saw them grab Elaine. There wasn’t anything she could do to stop them but she won’t let it happen again.

“You’re a warrior, correct?”

He was silent for a moment before he spoke, “Yes.”

She turned to look at him. He was leaning back on the chair. His upper body was bare except for the bandages crisscrossing his chest. Nesta gazed at them solemnly. “I want to tear their throats out with my bare hands. Will you teach me?”

His grin went from ear to ear, “When do you wanna start?”

Nesta pulled the covers from herself and got out of the bed on her unsteady fae feet, “Now.”

They didn’t notice that Nesta was growing wings until a couple of days after her transition. They sent her through every doctor in the Night Court and they all said the same things: the wings were permanent and there was nothing they could do.

Nesta stood sat on a balcony overlooking what was now being turned into Elain's garden. She usually kept her wings tight on her back but right now she let them loose and fluttering in the wind. It felt strange, as if she had grown an extra arm. An arm that was extremely sensitive and powerful. Every gust of wind sent shivers of both pleasure and want up her spine. She stretched her wings out a bit and saw as Elain joked around with some of her helpers. Thoughts of the future swirled in Nesta’s mind. What did it mean being Illyrian?

She heard small footsteps before her. Cassian’s training told her to attack, but the scent told her it was Feyre.

“I thought you weren’t coming today,” Nesta asked. Feyre’s visits were sporadic, lasting anywhere between minutes and moments. She was never here longer than a couple of hours and she rarely came often. There was a cover that must be maintained while the war was being planned out and not even the High Lady of the Night Court would risk her cover for her family and friends.

Feyre sat beside her a gave her a small smile, “Lucien will cover for me as he always does.”

Nesta growled, “How can we even trust him, how sure are you that he won’t sell you out at any moment?”

“Elain is his mate, he will do anything to make sure she’s safe.”

Rhysand told her about the mating bond, and how they could sway Lucien by pretending they were holding Elain hostage. Nesta didn’t trust any of it. She saw Elain down in her garden with some other fae, joking around and keeping busy. Nesta never wanted this for her. By now she should’ve been married to the Lord’s son, never having to worry about anything ever again…

Nesta’s wings fluttered in annoyance and Feyre glanced at them. Nesta silently cursed herself, she forgot that her wings were an extension of herself that she had yet to control. “Did they tell you?”

“Rhys did,” Feyre said in a solemn tone, “It’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“Helping me transition, huh?” Nesta said in an angry tone, “I didn’t want this Feyre, I didn’t want any of it. Why do I have to be given this?”

“I tried to make sure you guys didn’t get caught in the middle, I didn’t think this would happen either.” Feyre looked regretful, "Nesta, please, I'm so sorry it turned out this way."

“I should not have let you use our house. I should have told you no from the beginning.” Nesta turned to look at Feyre. Feyre was always the dreamer, always the one who gave everything to them in the cottage, and here she was, in a place where she could finally feel at home and in a way Nesta hated her for that.

“Nesta-” Feyre started, but got cut off by her sister.

“I need to go. Rhys said that since I’m an _Illyrian_ -” Nesta spat the very word out of her mouth, “I must go and train with them in the mountains. I won’t be here to look after Elain, so please make sure nothing happens to her.” She got up, leaving Feyre alone in the balcony.

Nesta wasn’t sure when or if she’d ever get to see Feyre again. Maybe she should’ve left with much kinder words but feeling anger was easier than telling Feyre she loved her and her sacrifice more than words could describe.

Nesta met Azriel in the first floor of the House of Wind. She was all dressed in her newly acquired fighting leathers. For someone who grew up on dresses the sense of mobility was strange. "I thought Cassian was taking me."

"Rhys wants him to rest while his body heals and we don’t think Cassian’s wounds will heal fast enough if he joins you in the war-camp."

"How long until he's ready?" She asked, trying to take the concern out of her voice.

"The healers said he should be ready in at least six months," Azriel smiled as if he was recalling a fond memory.

“Will he be joining me when he's ready?" Azriel nodded in affirmation and Nesta moved on to the question that had been nagging her all day, "What did Rhysand say about my condition?”

“He said he’ll respect it. No one will know of your location except for me and Cassian.”

“Not even Feyre?” Nesta knew that her sister and the High Lord had a connection and she didn’t want him to let her location be known to Feyre.

“Not even your sister.” Nesta nodded her thanks and Azriel continued speaking, “Have you said your goodbyes? You might not see your family for months.” There was concern in his tone but Nesta ignored it.

“I’ve said what I needed to say. I’m ready to leave now.”

“Can you fly?” He asked her.

“I… haven’t had a chance to try.” She was lying. She knew her body craved the feel of wind below her wings but she was too scared to answer the call. Azriel could probably notice her fear, even if he hadn’t mentioned it.

“I’ll teach you, don’t worry,” He smiled, “You’ll love it. We’ll just winnow to the War Camp,” He stretched his hand out to her, “Are you ready?”

Nesta hesitated for a second, then took his hand and disappeared with him.


	2. Throw Me in the Deep End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took such a long time to write.  
> Thank you to everyone who read, followed, and gave kudos. I really appreciate it!  
> Hope you like this new chapter.

They winnowed to a cottage set away from an Illyrian war-camp, the perfect place for someone under the High Lord’s protection to stay at. Nesta paused to take a look around their surroundings. The cottage she was staying at was in the middle of a field, surrounded by trees on all sides. In the distance she could faintly hear sounds coming from the war-camp.  
“You’re not going to the war-camp yet,” Azriel said once he noticed her looking towards the area where the sounds were coming from.  
“I thought I came here to be a part of the war-camp,” Nesta asked him.  
“You don’t know how to even fly, Nesta,” Azriel said, “You’ll join them soon enough. Now come, let me show you around.” He started towards the cottage with Nesta trailing not far behind.  
The bareness of the cottage reminded Nesta of the hovel she grew up in, but it had more furniture and food than they had ever had while they were living in the hovel.  
“All the rooms are on this floor,” Azriel said once they came up on the second floor. “You’re the only one who is going to be staying here so you can choose whichever one you want.”  
“Are you going to spend the night?”  
“No, I have to be back in Velaris for the war plans,” He responded. Nesta nodded and tried to look calm but she could feel her body kicking into high gear. The last time she spent alone in a house she and Elain were taken…  
Azriel must’ve felt her fear because he reached out to her and squeezed her shoulder, “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here, I promise.”  
Nesta shook his hand off. “Your High Lord promised us safety when we were in our home and he couldn’t deliver,” She snarled at him, “Why should I trust you now?”  
“Because it is very hard for someone to get past a whole squadron of Illyrians,” He said as he turned and left Nesta in the hallway by herself. She heard the distant sound of his wings and even though she tried hard to keep it down, the fear kept rising in her.  
When she was getting into bed she left a knife on her bedside table and another one under her pillow. If someone tried to get her while she slept she would make sure to give them a real fight this time.  
_Nesta heard Elain screaming for her help but she couldn’t do anything to help her. Someone was holding her back and all she could do was listen to Elain’s screams._  
 _They were pushing her, down, down, down…_  
Someone grabbed her shoulder and Nesta’s eyes immediately opened. She went reaching for the knife under her pillow, ready to lash out at her attacker. She launched herself at the person who grabbed her but the person was quicker than her and pinned her to the bed, their knees on her back holding her down. Nesta’s wings flapped incessantly and she groaned in pain. Her wings are sensitive, so sensitive, the pain blinding but she kept bucking against her captor.  
“Nesta, calm down. It’s just me, Azriel!”  
“ _Azriel?_ ” She gasped out in disbelief, lying still, “I thought you were in Velaris?” She took in the darkness of the room, realizing that she must’ve only slept for a few hours.  
Azriel let her go and backed off. “It wasn’t a long meeting. Besides, someone has to teach you how to fly. I hope you slept well.” He turned to walk out of the room and lit a candle with a flick of his wrist. “Breakfast is downstairs, get ready.”  
Nesta turned around on the bed and tried to slow down her breathing. One day at a time was how Cassian told her to take it, the fear will eventually fade away in time. She hated the fear they gave her. She hated this body she was given. She hated everything. Nesta yelled. She heard the sound of glass breaking and Azriel’s boots running up the stairs. How was she going to explain this one when she didn’t even know what happened?  
Azriel ran into the room with his shadows swirling dangerously around him and looked at the glass covering the floor and then laid his eyes on Nesta, “Did you do this?”  
“I was just lying on the bed, how could I do this?” She retorted.  
“Unlike humans, fae have magic and _can_ do this.” He turned to make his way out of the room, “Get a pack of supplies ready, we might be away for longer than I thought.”  
Nesta walked out of the cottage behind him. When she usually saw him he only wore his two Siphons on his hands, but today he wore the whole set which made her think they were going to be away for awhile and he wanted to be prepared for anything. Since Nesta couldn’t fly she knew they would be walking the whole way. They were silent as they journeyed on.  
Azriel woke her up at the crack of dawn, while the whole world was still dark, misty, and asleep. Nesta could see the first rays of daylight in the distance, illuminating the barren tundra they walked through. They were high enough for snow to still coat the land and the more they walked the more the sun illuminated the mountainous region they were in. It was a cold, unforgiving place, and Nesta realized why Azriel and Cassian had to be tough and unforgiving themselves.  
A cold wind passed through and Nesta shivered. “Are all the Illyrians raised on these camps?” She asked Azriel.  
Azriel didn't face her but his voice still carried to her, “Every single one. Us Illyrians are bred for war and we only take the strongest with us.”  
“What about the weaker ones?”  
“The Blood Rites take care of those.”  
Nesta felt a chill come upon her and pulled her furs closer. “What are those?”  
Azriel gave one backwards glance towards her before he started, as if gauging her reaction, “They’re what we use to pull the warriors from the novices. We put every single one of you on a mountain. No weapons, Siphons, magic, or your wings to help you. Just you and your abilities. Many attempt the Blood Rite. Not everyone makes it out.”  
The Illyrians were such hardy, uncompromising people.  
“And once you pass the Blood Rite and become a warrior?” Nesta asked.  
“We send you to whatever war is brewing,” Azriel responded, “In war there is no room for mistakes therefore you can’t fight unless you’re a warrior who has passed the Rites.”  
Nesta turned the words over in her head. Only warriors who pass the Blood Rites join the war. Her only chance of going head-to-head with the King of Hybern was if she passed these Blood Rites.  
"When are the next Blood Rites?" She asked Azriel.  
Azriel stopped and looked at her, a look of disbelief on his face, “You can’t seriously want to participate.”  
“Azriel,” Nesta said in a cold tone, “Tell me. When are the next Blood Rites.” This time she didn’t ask, she demanded.  
“Feyre-”  
“Feyre isn’t here and she might want to protect me but I need this, Azriel,” She said, “If my only chance to go into battle against the King is to become a warrior through the Blood Rites, then I will fucking do it.”  
“Not everybody makes it out,” He said, warning her, trying to change her mind.  
“I understand.”  
“You can’t even fly.” He was practically grasping at straws. Feyre must want them to be as safe as possible for Azriel to try to sway her mind.  
“That’s why we’re here in the cold, is it not?” She retorted. “I will learn, Azriel. Just give me a chance.” A wicked smile came upon her lips. “I broke all the mirrors in the cottage, imagine what I could do if I was properly trained.”  
Azriel was silent for a moment as he thought it over and spoke again. “The next Blood Rite is in five months' time. You need a lot of training and there’s no time for idleness. Are you ready?”  
Nesta imagined herself finally facing the King of Hybern and grinned. She could feel something stirring under her skin, in her blood. Azriel’s shadows stirred as if sensing her bloodlust. “I’ll be ready, I’ll make sure of it.”  
It took them almost all day but they finally reached the top of what Azriel described as the “smallest mountain” in the vicinity. Nesta saw nothing small about the mountain as she stood at the edge of the cliff staring down. The cold wind passed through again, stronger than when they were in the woods. It moved her wings and her body practically sang with anticipation but something was holding her back.  
Azriel came up behind her, “There’s nothing to fear, Nesta, your body was made to fly the skies.”  
Humans were never meant to fly the skies, she wanted to say, but Nesta forgets who she is now, she always forgets. “I wasn’t born flying like you.”  
She turned to him and saw a sad smile grace his face, “I didn’t learn how to fly until I was older either.”  
“But you’re Illyrian?”  
“I wasn’t always treated like one.”  
“Then how did you learn how to fly?” She asked, confused.  
And then Azriel grinned and Nesta knew she wasn’t going to like what was about to happen. He had a wide stance, wings fully outstretched and he launched his whole body at her. One second Nesta had her feet planted firmly on the ground, the next second she was freefalling over the mountain,  
Nesta couldn’t think or breathe through the terror but her body was singing, humming with _want_.  
“Open your wings!” Azriel yelled beside her. He was coming down straight as an arrow, looking calm and collected beside Nesta’s flailing. “Your body knows what to do!”  
_No, it doesn’t know_ , she wanted to say as she saw the ground coming closer.  
_Please, please, please_ , her body pleaded. There was something stirring her blood, something under her skin that wanted out,  
_Your body knows what to do_.  
_Let's see if that's true, Azriel_.  
Nesta closed her eyes and let whatever silent instinct her body now followed take over. As if by her command her wings stretched out, catching the air and steadying her flight. She opened her eyes and saw as she flew right over a field of wildflowers, flying close enough to leave a trail amongst the wildflowers.  
Azriel flew next to her as she gained height, “I knew you could do it.”  
“Why did you throw me like that?”  
“To teach me how to fly Cassian and Rhys did the same thing,” He smiled, remembering a far away memory, “It obviously works on everyone.”  
Nesta wanted to lash out at him with her words, but she was feeling happy, so happy. As she raced Azriel around the mountains that day she forgot her hate and anger.  
That night they decided to camp out in the mountains, with nothing separating their view of the night sky. They stayed silent until curiosity got the best of Nesta.  
“Does Feyre not want us involved in the war?” Nesta asked Azriel. Nesta knew Feyre loved them very much and was always willing to protect them, but Azriel’s refusal to let her take part in the Blood Rites made her wonder if her sister still believed they needed protection in their immortal fae forms..  
“Feyre and Rhys they…”Azriel paused for a second, trying to piece his thoughts together. “They carry a lot of burdens. Some they don’t speak to us about and instead keep to each other. Feyre was very affected by the way you were changed, and she worries so much. Feyre would love nothing more than to let you follow your own path in this war but I thought that letting you take part in the Blood Rites would be another worry for Feyre, another burden, even if she knows nothing about you being here.”  
Azriel turned to look at Nesta, shame written all over her face, “You have a purpose in this war, Nesta, and you need to forge your own path and I must let you, even if doing so adds another burden on our High Lady. I can’t stunt your growth. You are participating in the Blood Rites, regardless of what anybody says.”


	3. Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from George R. R. Martins’ A Song of Ice and Fire. It’s the House of Dorne’s saying.  
> This is another beast of a chapter that includes badass Nesta and fighting the establishment. I wasn’t expecting it to come out this long honestly.  
> Once again thank you for reading, reviewing, and giving kudos.

Azriel divided his time between his duties to the Night Court and training Nesta.

“If I throw you to them without you knowing anything,” He explained to her, “You’ll get hurt. And embarrassed.”

“They can damn well try,” She snarled. Nesta moved forward to take a shot at Azriel’s face but he dodged it.

The Illyrians are a tall fae, and both Cassian and Azriel had taught her to use her short frame to her advantage and because of this she favored hand-to-hand combat. Her opponent can’t escape her if she was in their face.

Nesta tried to throw another shot his way but she was too slow. Azriel caught her fist, bending her arm backward and throwing her on the ground, placing a knee right between her wings. Nesta gave a groan of discomfort when he pushed his entire weight on her back to keep her down. “You only say that because you haven’t met them.”

“If I’ve met you, I’ve met them,”

“If you say so, Nesta,” He said as he stepped away from her, “I’ll let you decide when you’ve met them.”

He looked at her as she got up and dusted herself off, ready for another fight. “We need to get you Siphons.”

“I don’t _need_ Siphons,” She said flippantly.

“Your magic can only be controlled through the Siphons.”

“I don’t have any magic,” Nesta growled. She didn’t know if she was trying to convince Azriel or herself whenever she made that statement.

Azriel sighed, “Whatever you say, Nesta. Now let’s go inside, it’s getting dark.”

And that was how her days had been lately. Azriel might not be able to spend the whole day, but he was there in the morning. She trained from sunup to sundown, preparing for the moment she could finally join the other Illyrians at the war-camp. Then one morning she woke up and instead of Azriel she saw a handwritten note on the table for her.

_I think you’re finally ready to meet the other Illyrians._

She smiled to herself. About damn time, she thought.

The war-camp was different than what she expected. She was, confused by the lack of women. Azriel said they trained with the men, but where were they?

A man with a small entourage approached her. “Are you another one of the High Lord’s Made proteges?” He said, chuckling, “I wonder where he finds all of you. I’m Lord Devlon, Commander of this camp. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to train,” Nesta said.

The man, Lord Devlon, laughed loudly, his entourage laughing alongside him, “Did you hear the girl? She showed up to _train_ , haha. It must be your first day here, but the women have to finish chores before they can train?”

“Chores?” Nesta asked, confused. Azriel never mentioned chores.

“Yes, _chores_.’ He said in a condescending tone. Nesta felt her temper flare but she couldn’t go against the Commander of the camp. “The woman are out there-” He pointed to an area of the camp “- And once you all finish your chores, you will be allowed to train with the rest of us.”

Nesta turned to go, but hesitated. “Well what are you waiting for?” Lord Devlon said when he noticed her hesitation, “If you want to train you’ll have to finish your chores. Now go on, go!”

Nesta spread her wings and flew to the area where he pointed at. Once she reached it she saw that all the women in the camp were here doing various chores. Some were cooking, some were washing clothes, no matter the chore they were all busy. She noticed a few like her were wearing the Illyrian fighting leathers, probably finishing their chores before

Someone tapped her shoulder and Nesta turned to face them. It was an older Illyrian women. Her skin tan and her hair up in braids. She wasn’t wearing the Illyrian fighting leathers and instead wore a simple calico dress. “Hello, dearie,” She said, “Always nice to have some more help. What are you good at?”

Nesta already knew she didn’t wanna be here but she had to comply with the rules of the camp. “I can cook.”

“Ah,” The woman said, “We do need an extra hand in the kitchens.” She pointed out the kitchens and Nesta set out to them, ready to already get the day over with.

Nesta looked out at the window and saw that the sun was beginning to set. She had been here for six hours already. She was ready to leave. She turned to look at the girl working beside her. She too wore the fighting leathers, she might know when the end was coming.

“When will we be done here?” Nesta asked her.

The girl was confused at the question. “What do you mean?”

Nesta sighed. “With chores. I need to train with the men.”

“Oh,” The girl shrugged her shoulders, “We’ve all kinda given up on training with the men really. We’re not sure why the High Lord and some of the other women keep insisting we join. The men give us chore after chore with no end in sight.”

Nesta felt her anger flare up in her like a flame. She threw her apron off and walked away.

“Hey!” The girl yelled after her, “Where are you going!”

“To have a good talk with the men!” Nesta yelled back.

When she reached the camp she actively searched for Lord Devlon. She noticed him milling about with his entourage and laughing along with them. Nesta’s anger ran hotter. When Nesta touched down she yelled out to him, “Lord Devlon! Hey! Lord Devlon!”

But he paid her no mind. She really wondered how hot he wanted her anger to run. She looked around in the ground and saw a large rock and threw it his way.

Lord Devlon immediately let out a deep roar and looked around searching for the perpetrator. His eyes finally landed on her and stalked towards her. “I don’t think you’re done with your chores, _girl_.’ He said the word as if it was an insult, and maybe to these people it was an insult.

Nesta tilted her chin up, daring to look him straight in the eye despite the incredible height he had on her. “I came here to train, not cook for the day to feed _you_.”

“I told you-” He started before Nesta cut him off.

“Your High Lord Rhysand sent _me_ here to _train_ and I will train!”

Lord Devlon’s demeanor changed as an idea came to him. “You’re here to train, huh? We’ll I’ll let you train. But you have to fight my men. If you lose you go back with the other women.”

Nesta nodded. It sounded fair. Lord Devlon grinned. “Galad, get in the sparring ring with the girl.”

The man, Galad, was an absolute beast, looming over her, and Nesta knew this fight wasn’t going to be fair. She climbed into the sparring ring with him and they walked around sizing each other up. Nesta ran forward with her sword, ready to take the first shot. Galad must think little of her, because he was using simple moves to counteract. Nesta growled and moved to swipe his feet from underneath him. He jumped and moved behind her. She saw a flash of silver in the corner of her eye and hit the ground, spreading her wings out so they wouldn’t get hurt either. She heard the _swish_ of his sword coming dangerously close to her. She rolled onto er back and propelling herself onto her feet. She saw Galad coming back at her from her right side. Nesta turned to intercept him but he feinted, moving instead to her left side. He put all his force behind his thrust, leaving a deep cut across her cheek and making Nesta fall to the ground.

Nesta could taste the blood running into her mouth and hear the laughter of everyone watching. She got up and saw Lord Devlon giving her a wild smile.

“Thank you for the entertainment,” He said mockingly, “You can join the other women now.”

“No.” She said.

“You just lost, our arrangement was for you to leave as soon as you lost a fight.”

“I’m not leaving until I fight everyone here.” She said. If she must prove her worth she’d fight every man laughing at her right now.

Lord Devlon laughed, “Then so be it. Next one up.”

A different man walked into the sparring ring and Nesta prepared herself.

At the end of the day she fought twenty one men, and won against three of them and yet Lord Devlon still denied her spot in the day’s training.

“If you were as good as you say,” He said condescendingly at the end of the day, “You’d have beat _all_ of them. We’re just trying to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

She wanted to punch his face right in.

As she walked away she saw the women going back to their homes. They noticed her and whispered in each other’s ears. Nesta opened her wings and took to the skies like a bullet, ready to be in comfort of the cottage if only to get away from all of them.

Nesta cursed every deity that has ever existed the second she got to the comfort of the cottage. She looked at herself in her bedroom mirror and felt ready to punch it. Her training with Cassian and the few days she spent with Azriel were always rough but nothing she learned seemed to help her in the sparring ring today. Nesta thought of Feyre and the many years she fed them and the ability she now had to hold her own against much stronger and older fae. How did she do it?

She leaned in closer to the mirror to inspect her injuries better. The cut that went across her left cheek was still bleeding and she saw what might be a forming black eye on her right eye. Despite her body’s protest she slowly took her shirt off and saw all the cuts and bruises strewn all over her torso. She thought she was ready for this but her body proved otherwise.

Nesta decided to look around the house for medical supplies even though she wasn’t really sure on where to start since she had never been in a position to fix injuries. After a moment of her aimlessly searching she heard a knock coming from her front door. She opened it expecting Rhysand or one of his Illyrian commanders but instead found herself face to face with one of the Illyrian woman.

The female Illyrian stood at her doorstep, a wide smile on her face, her coily hair let loose and forming a small halo around her head, and a basket of medical supplies on her hips.

“Hello,” She said in a friendly tone, “My name is Ramsii. I don’t think you know much about patching up injuries, so I decided to come help.”

Nesta was ready to tell her to go away and never come and see her outside of their training, but remembered watching the women work while the men trained. For how long did the women want to belong but got denied? Nesta stepped aside and opened the door wider.

Ramsii moved into the kitchen and set a chair out for Nesta to sit on while she arranged her supplies. Once Nesta sat down the first thing Ramsii worked on was removing the blood from her body and face. They stayed silent while she worked on Nesta.

Ramsii’s finishing touch was bandaging up the cut on her cheek. “Most of your bruises and cuts should heal by tomorrow, but this one-” Ramsii ran a gentle hand over the bandage on Nesta’s cheek, “-is probably gonna scar. You took quite a beating from the men.”

Nesta clenched her fists, “I thought I was ready.”

Ramsii gave a sad smile, “Well us women are never really ready, the men have more and better training than us.”

“When we stand before the storm we say, ‘I will not bend, I will not break.’” Nesta said in a hard tone, “And we train harder. One day someone will try to take everything you hold dear away from you, and you have to be stronger than them to protect it.” She stared Ramsii straight in the eyes, tilting her head higher and straightening her back, “I will not bend, I will not break.”

“Everyone in the camp feels uncomfortable around you because you were Made, not born, and maybe it is a good thing. If our mothers had been born with your fire we might have been flying long before Rhysand became High Lord.”

“Well if your mothers had been born with Nesta’s fire they might have been killed.”

Ramsii gasped and immediately took a knee with her head bowed. Nesta was confused and then she saw Rhysand standing at the doorway to the kitchen. In this moment he wasn’t Rhys, good friend, he was Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta asked him roughly.

“Visiting my _protege_ ,” He glanced at Ramsii still on her knee. “You may leave us. Tell no one I’m here.”

Ramsii nodded and quickly gathered up all the supplies she brought with her. Rhys paid the minimal attention to her and moved to sit on the chair opposite of Nesta. If she were still human Nesta’s first response would’ve been to move farther from him, but she wasn’t human anymore and though she tried to tell herself she and Rhys weren’t the same her new body told her different. They didn’t start speaking again until they heard the door close behind Ramsii and heard her flying away.

“How’s Elain? Have you told Feyre where I’m at?” Nesta said as soon as she knew they were safe from eavesdropping.

“Elain is doing fine. She’s transitioning better than some people. Feyre hasn’t stopped asking me about where I sent you.” And then he added in an exaggerated tone, “And it is so hard keeping things from her.”

Nesta snorted, “It wasn’t too hard keeping a mating bond from her.”

Rhys sighed, “As much as I’d like to be here for your _wonderful_ company verbally sparring with you isn’t what I’m here for.”

“Then, pray tell, what are you here for?”

“Azriel told me you’re interested in participating in the upcoming Blood Rite,” Rhys paused for a moment, “And that you’re in need of Siphons.”

“I said that, yes,” Nesta said, “Although I’m not sure why I would need _your_ Siphons, Feyre doesn’t seem to need them.”

“Feyre isn’t Illyrian, you are, and as one of the Illyrian you’ll need to use Siphons to control your powers,” He said, “We’re still not sure how much or what the Cauldron gave you, but you’ll need to learn how to control it and properly use them.”

Us, we, Illyrians. She never asked to be one of _them_.

“I am not an _Illyrian_ ,” Nesta snarled. The glass cups sitting on the counter exploded. 

“Well, _darling_ ,” Rhys said in a hard tone, “Your wings say differently. The Cauldron made you one of us, and there’s _nothing_ you can do about it. You’re not human anymore, Nesta, I hope you remember that and try to fit in.” He got up to leave, his chair screeching against the floor, “The Blood Rites start in five months. I hope you can prepare yourself.” He paused for a second as if remembering something.

“I heard what you did today. Standing up against the other warriors and novices the way you did, it was very admirable and the woman here are looking up to you. Don’t let them down by distancing yourself from them, because unlike you, they believe you’re one of them.” Rhys looked down at her one last time, “The men here will try to convince you to not take the Blood Rite. They’ll tell you you’re not ready and push you down. Fight against them. When the betting comes know that my money's on you.” He disappeared in a swirl of black leaving Nesta alone with her thoughts.

The next morning Nesta set out for the war-camp. If Lord Devlon once again dismissed her she’d fight the men again. She’ll fight all of them, day after day, if only to prove her worth. Nesta was surprised when she saw Ramsii and the other Illyrian women waiting for her at the camp entrance.

“If you fight against them,” Ramsii said, “We’ll all fight them.”

Lord Devlon’s displeasure was even greater when he saw that Nesta showed up with all the Illyrian women in tow,

“What are they doing here?” He asked, “They should all be out doing their chores. No training before chores, remember?”

“We’ll do the chores once we fight with the men,” Nesta responded in her cold voice.

Lord Devlon threw his head back in a loud laugh. “After the ass whooping they gave you yesterday? Ha! Why should I let you lot embarrass yourselves like that?”

“We’re all here to be trained as warriors, and we will be treated as such.” Nesta looked around to the male Illyrians that had gathered around them. “We will do no more _chores_ until we fight you. Every single one of you.”

“Tall order,” Lord Devlon chuckled, “Let me know when you’ve achieved it.” He turned his back to Nesta and the Illyrian females. The dismissal made Nesta’s blood run cold.

Nesta growled and unsheathed her sword, surging forward towards Lord Devlon. Some of the members of Lord Devlon’s entourage noticed her movements and ran forward to stop her. Nesta lifted a hand towards them and planned on having her magic hold them in place, but her magic blew them away instead. She cursed under her breath. Maybe she did need Siphons to better control whatever magic they said she had. She jumped, ready to slam her sword right through Lord Devlon’s back…

She was thrown back by his barrier when she was inches away from his body.

Nesta was thrown hard on the ground and looked up and saw him looking at her with anger written all over his face. “You dare attack me _again_? Even after the mess my men made of you? You’re a special kind of stupid. Illyrian females weren’t meant to fight our wars, they were meant to stay and keep the homes tidy for when the men came home.”

Nesta got up once again yelling out a battle cry full of anger. None of the other men tried to stop her this time since Lord Devlon had his barrier ready to push her back again.

Azriel always said that the Siphons were just stones that better concentrated an Illyrians’ killing power and Nesta decided that to break Lord Devlon’s barrier, she’d have to try to see if she could use her sword as a stone. The sword suddenly felt hot in her hand and she smiled.

Nesta stopped abruptly, pulled her arm back, and propelled her sword forward, aiming for Lord Devlon’s throat. He appeared nonchalant in his barrier, not bothering to stop the sword with his magic, after all nothing could penetrate his barrier. At least that's what he thought. Nesta’s sword finally reached his barrier and instead of being pushed back as everyone expected it to, momentum and her magic brought it forward, making cracks appear on the barrier until it shattered. A wicked grin came upon Nesta’s face and she ran forward, ready to pounce.

Lord Devlon realized that Nesta was aiming to kill and sidestepped her sword, but not before it made a small cut on his cheek as he moved. In his distraction he unfortunately forgot about Nesta. She slammed into him, bringing both of them down.

Lord Devlon tried to pull her off but Nesta had the upper hand and started to punch him.

Once, twice, multiple times.

She punched him for every morning Ramsii dressed for training but instead was pointed towards chores, for every time he denied an Illyrian women her spot, for every time Nesta woke up still trapped in this fae body. Cassian and Azriel always told her to control her anger in a fight, but she wasn’t too good at it.

It took four men to pry her off him but once they managed to pull her away from him Nesta spit at him. “Fuck you, Lord Devlon.” She yelled at him, “These women are _Illyrian_ like _you_ , and all they want to do is train alongside _you_!”

One of the Illyrian males walked forward, offering Lord Devlon a hand to help him get back up but he dismissed it. He got up on his own spitting blood on the ground. When his eyes reached Nesta’s she saw a cruel fire burning in them and knew that she’d be severely punished for her major overstep, but oh was it worth it. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of someone clapping. They turned to see who was clapping and saw Rhysand standing amongst them. No one had known he was here this whole time.

“Congratulations, Lord Devlon,” He said mockingly, “Beaten to the ground by a mere slip of a girl.”

He walked up to the men holding Nesta back and ordered them to let her go. They stole a glance to Lord Devlon. “He deserved everything she gave him, now let her go,” Rhysand said when he noticed where they were looking. They quickly backed off.

“Did you send one of your Made demons here to spy on me and my camp?” He said in an indignant tone.

Rhysand gave him a cold smile, “I sent her here to train but it seems as if my little _demon_ hasn’t been getting the training she needs because she’s a women. Did I not tell you to let the women train alongside the men?”

Lord Devlon stayed silent. Rhysand growled and Lord Devlon fell to the ground on his knees, gasping for air.

“ _Did I not tell you,_ ” Rhysand said in a cold tone. “The women will train with the men. If it takes Nesta beating you to a pulp every morning for it to happen, then so be it.” Rhysand released the hold he had over Lord Devlon. The man fell forward and gave Rhysand a cold stare. There was nothing he could do though, Rhysand was High Lord and his wishes were commands. “I better not hear anything from Nesta contradicting my commands.

His wings appeared and he prepared himself to leave but not before addressing the women, “Good luck today, women.”

Everyone stared at him as he left, then life went back to normal with Lord Devlon addressing the camp as to their duties for the day, including the women for the first time. Nesta was assigned to spend the day in sparring rings and she knew it was for her misstep today. Lord Devlon was hoping that the men would beat her down once again.

Nesta passed by Lord Devlon on her way to the sparring and gave him a wicked grin. “I will not bend, I will not break,” She said to him as she walked by him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys can imagine these characters however you want, but in my head Ramsii looks like Nathalie Emmanuels, a la Missandei.


	4. heavydirtysoul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, guess who finally makes their appearance in this chapter.  
> As always thank you for reading and supporting.

 

The next time Azriel came by to see Nesta they went across every mountain in the Night Court looking for Siphons that could control and hold her power.

“The trick,” Azriel said, when they set out in the morning, “Is to find a Siphon that calls to you.”/

But how can you find a Siphon that calls to you when you have ignored the call of your magic for so long?

The first Siphon she tried to focus her magic through shone brightly for a minute before it exploded in her face.

“Don’t get discouraged,” Azriel said when he saw her disappointment, “It might take us a while to find one you can use.”

“I thought I could use any Siphon,” Nesta said as she moved on to the next one.

Azriel shrugged, “Someone weaker could probably use any Siphon. The magic that you were given by the Cauldron is strong and requires a more durable material. We’re going to have to keep looking.”

It took all morning but they finally found a Siphon to match her power. Or actually, they found five Siphons. One for each palm, one for each shoulder, and one at the base of her throat. They glowed a soft turquoise color and Nesta knew things would never be the same.

“Do you feel any different?” Azriel asked.

“Depends on what kind of _different_ you’re asking about.” She said as she kept staring at her reflection.

“The Siphons help focus your magic like a paintbrush,” Azriel explained to her, “It’ll make everything less chaotic. It’ll also help us see what you’ve got better. You should feel more comfortable.”

I don’t feel like anything is crawling underneath my skin, she wanted to say. I know what this itch was, its _magic_ and I can _control it_. But she decided to keep it simple as always.

“Will you teach me?” She asked him.

He smiled his affirmation.

Nesta didn’t have much friends, but she knew Azriel was one.

Although Nesta wanted to start her magic training as soon as possible, Azriel was still a commander in Rhysand’s armies and the war was just starting. It would be days before he showed up and although Nesta wondered how it was all going, she was only ever worried about her sisters.

“You’re a novice,” He would say in response to her questions, “You aren’t supposed to know.”

“But I’m their sister,” She would declare. Azriel would only give her the basics. _They’re fine, don’t worry_. Nesta needed _more_.

“Pass the Blood Rites and maybe I’ll tell you,” He would say with a grin. It was always his way of getting Nesta to focus on her training, but it never removed the worry from her mind.

She knew the war was hitting them harder now. Illyrian patrols would pass by their war-camp daily. None of them would speak to the novices of course, but everyone knew they were headed to the war.

The monotony of her days didn’t help. She would wake early every morning and train from dawn till dusk. Occasionally she would train individually with Azriel or the other women, but her daily routine never really changed and the only way she knew of the passing of time was the weather and the training. The Blood Rites were getting closer, and she could feel in the training sessions that got harder and harder.

Out of the fifteen women who were novices in the war-camp only three other than Nesta had been cleared for the Blood Rites. There was Ramsii, Aria, and the girl Nesta first met in the kitchens, Elize. The four practiced together every afternoon they could and although they had different strengths and weakness, Nesta knew that if they stuck together during the Blood Rites their chances of surviving would increase. If they could prove that women could pass the Blood Rites, maybe other women in other camps would be given the same opportunity.

Elize’s specialty was long range attacks and she would always be the one tutoring the other girls on how to shoot arrows or throw other types of weaponry. On one particular afternoon she sat on a rock and watched as the other three attempted to shoot targets on the other side of the river. While Ramsii and Aria weren’t particularly gifted at it, they did much better than Nesta. Nesta always tried to use her magic to move the targets to an easier position but the women always caught the glow of her Siphons and called her out on it.

“Nesta,” Elize said out loud after minutes of silence, “Do you really think we can pass the Blood Rite?”

Nesta stayed quiet as she attempted to pinpoint her target. She decided to try to use a bit of her magic to move the target a little to the left…

“No magic, remember?” Aria said in a giggle.

Nesta groaned. She let the arrow go and felt it _swoosh_ past her ear and completely miss the target. _If only she could use her magic_ ….

“We can if we stick together,” She finally answered.

“How will we know to find each other?” Ramsii asked, “There’s no magic or flying allowed in the area. We could be miles away from each other and we would not know where to look.”

Nesta thought it over. Having no magic or flying messed her plan up quite a bit. Azriel had told her that there was an old magic on the Blood Rite mountains placed by the High Lord. It smothered whatever magic the Illyrian novices carried and made their wings completely useless. But Nesta wondered, if she could fight against whatever enchantment a High Lord had tried to make on her mind, could she find a crack in the magic that constricted them during the Blood Rite?

“We’ll find a way,” Nesta murmured. “The sun is going down, I’ll be heading out. See you in the morning.” The women waved her goodbye and Nesta flew back to the cottage

Nesta knew something was wrong the second she noticed smoke coming out of the chimney of the cottage and all the lights on in the first floor. Azriel rarely spent the night, so it couldn’t have been him. An intruder maybe, but why would they give themselves away like this?

Nesta decided to lie low and flitted around the trees. There was only one way in and out of the cottage so she couldn’t surprise the intruder that way. But there were always the bedroom windows.

The door opened and the intruder walked out, the lights from inside illuminating him from behind and stretching his shadow out on the ground. Nesta clung to one of the trees, trying her best to be undetectable as she observed her intruder. He was a tall and broad shouldered Illyrian male from what Nesta could see. Azriel had a slimmer build, so it couldn’t be him, but who else could it be?

“Can you stop flapping around like a bat and come inside?” The figure yelled out. “I made dinner for us!”

There was something familiar about the voice…

She flew off the tree to stand before the intruder. This male couldn’t be that much of a threat since a _real_ intruder wouldn’t show their face. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the light when she finally recognized the figure.

“ _Cassian_?” She said in a surprised tone.

Cassian spread his arms out and gave her a wide grin. “The one and only!”

“You called me a _bat_!” She said, pointing at him accusingly.

“You called me one too if my memory serves correctly, so if I’m a bat, you’re a bat.” He turned to go back inside. “Dinner is getting cold, get inside.”

The last time Nesta saw his wings they were all torn up, the skin hanging in between the bones in tatters. Everyone worried over whether or not they would ever return to their old glory and Rhysand had Azriel search all of Pyrinthian for a cure. But seeing them now… She couldn’t believe that just five months ago they were hanging in shreds. His wings now were perfectly healthy with not even a scar to show what he went through.

She watched as he placed their meal on two different trays and took his to the table, leaving hers behind on the counter for her to pick up.

“Your wings...” Nesta started but she didn’t know what she really wanted to ask him since she had so many questions already. _How’d you find me here, how is Elain and Feyre, what is going on_?

“Perfectly fine,” He said in between mouthfuls, “As it turns out, Elain is quite a gifted healer.”

“Azriel never told me this!”

“And he shouldn’t. No information till you’re a real warrior.”

“ _Cassian_ ,” Nesta hissed, “Why are you here? Does anyone else know?”

“As Rhy’s commanders, me and Azriel are the only ones who know you’re here.” He answered.

“Then as his commander shouldn’t you be out on the field, Mr. I Command the Important Ones?”

He pushes his empty plate aside and grins, then props his feet onto the table. “Turns out Rhys wants me to take a little break to recover. Your Blood Rite is in less than a month so I thought you might want some company.”

Nesta thought about his words for a moment. It’s been months since she last left Elain without even saying goodbye and left Feyre with those bitter words. She misses them and she hated being in this place alone…

“Who said I needed company?” Nesta said in a taunting tone. She walked around him and slapped the back of his head. “And get your feet off the table, you brute.” She reached out for her plate of food.

He laughs but still places his feet back on the floor. “Oh, Nesta, I would have wanted a much _warmer_ welcome.”

Nesta had her plate of food in her hand when she turns around with a cocked eyebrow and repeats his words back, “A _warmer_ welcome?”

“A _much_ warmer welcome.”

Nesta smiled a devilish grin and could already feel the tension rising in the air.

She sauntered back to Cassian and she knew her swaying hips held all his attention. She placed her plate of food in front of him, using one hand to hold onto the table, and the other to pull his head back. She runs her fingers through his bound hair, eventually removing the string that held it in place. His hazel eyes followed her every move.

Nesta traces Cassian’s lips with her finger and his eyes fluttered shut, his breath stuttering. She leans down, the loose ends of her hair tickling his cheek. She could feel the sweet taste of his desire in her mouth and saw as his hands gripped the table hard…

She promptly dumped her hot plate of food on his lap.

Cassian got up from the chair with a curse and reached out for napkins to wipe his lap with. Nesta walked away laughing with her plate.

“ _Nesta_ ,” Cassian said in a growl, “Why did I expect something different from you?”

“Men are so dumb sometimes,” She said as she refilled her plate. “I’m eating dinner by myself upstairs. Good night.”

As Nesta walks to her room, leaving Cassian behind to clean the mess.

_Nesta’s back in the Archeron Manor running towards Elain’s room, trying to get both of them out of there. She’s being followed by one of the fae and its completely useless trying, but she’ll do it anyway. Just so she can wake up the next morning and say that at least she tried._

_The fae runs into her and slams her against the wall. She sees stars and moans in pain. There’s blood running down her face from where her head hit the wall._

_“You can’t outrun me,_ human _,” The cold voice rasps in her ear._

_She hears Elain screaming in the distance and Nesta can feel the tears running down her face…_

_Fire is burning in her veins._

You can’t fight me _, the Cauldron says,_ stop.

Make me human again and I’ll stop _, she promises the Cauldron,_ just make me back.

_She hears cruel laughter ringing in her ears and the pain becomes too much…_

Nesta wakes up screaming. The room is still dark, so she knows she probably only slept a couple of hours as usual. She clutches the sheets to her body with shaky hands. Nesta is used to having the nightmares when she’s alone, but she didn’t expect them to come when she knows Cassian is here.

She takes a deep breath and gets out of the bed on her unsteady legs. When she opened the door she saw that Cassian was outside waiting for her. He opened his mouth to speak but she brushed past him.

Nesta sits at the table with a cup of warm tea in her hands and watches as the sunrise colors the land in rose and gold. Cassian sits on the chair across from her, either waiting on the right time to speak or waiting on her to speak.

They stay silent for minutes, maybe an hour. Nesta relishes in it, she doesn’t want him asking her about the nightmares. She watches as Cassian picks his cup of tea and sniffs it, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

_Fight with me over the tea, don’t ask me questions I don’t want to answer._

“Azriel mentioned you had nightmares,” Cassian starts.

Nesta drops her cup, tea spilling over the sides and onto the table. Her voice is cold when she speaks. “So do you three just gossip about things that don’t concern you?”

“No, Nesta, it’s just…” He heaves a sigh and a pained look comes across his face, “I worry about you.”

She stays silent as he continues to speak. She looks at anything except for Cassian. She doesn’t need his _pity_. The tea in her cup boils.

“We all have our demons and-Nesta!”

She gets out of her chair and practically runs for the door. She doesn’t want to hear him.

He grabs her elbow and holds her back. “You can’t keep this to yourself, Nesta. You can talk to me, you can talk to anyone-“

“Let me go,” She interrupts him with a growl. Her turquoise Siphons glow menacingly.

Cassian opens his mouth, ready to say something else to counter her. Nesta feels fire in her fingertips. If she has to fight him she will, and she’ll burn this whole cottage down while she’s at it.

He must’ve noticed the resolve in her voice because he lets her go. Nesta runs out of the cottage and takes to the sky with a deep boom of her wings, going as far as she can from the cottage.

She needs silence, she needs to feel _human_.

Nesta lands in an empty field, surrounded by nothing but tall mountains and trees. She had always been told that to keep herself sane she needed to drain at least a little bit of magic a day. She wonders how it would feel to drain all her magic.

Her body turns to flames and she yells out a battle cry, lashing out at the first thing she can see.

The sun makes room for the moon and Nesta lays in the middle of a barren and smoking field. She glances at the Siphons on her hand before turning her gaze back to the starry night sky. It took her all day but her Siphons are cold and dark, her magic run out. She doesn’t feel the tingle of magic running beneath her skin and she takes a deep breath. Nesta had almost forgotten what it was like to be human.

Nesta hears a distant flap of wings and tenses up before recognizing the scent as Cassian’s. She feels him land beside her, and she moves her eyes from the moon to his face. After watching as Feyre worked hard to keep her and Elaine alive Nesta never thought she’d meet another person who worried over her, but here Cassian stands, looking as if he searched all of Pyrinthian for her.

“By the mess you made of this place I’m amazed you didn’t attract any of the Hyberian patrols.” He says in a concerned tone.

“I wish they would have,” Nesta says in an empty voice.

Cassian sighs and reaches down for her, “Come on, we need to get you home.”

Nesta brushes his help off with a snarl as she tries to pick herself up, “I have no home here.” But right as she takes her first step she falls to her knees. The tears are threatening to spill and she closes her eyes tightly. _Not in front of Cassian_.

“Nesta,” Cassian says in a strained voice but she ignores him, trying just one more time to make it on her own.

Nesta stands on her own, her whole body shaking with the strain. She silently curses herself, she didn’t think she’d be this drained. She starts moving forward again and before she knows it the ground is coming up to meet her. She does nothing to soften the fall.

Cassian surges forward and scoops her up before she reaches the ground. He rolls his shoulders, moving her to a more comfortable position in his arms. “You went past your limit. We might be immortal and stronger than your average human but we do have our limits.”

He opens his wings and takes to the skies. Nesta tightens her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest. Smoke coats her body but it doesn’t smell so bad when she takes in Cassian’s earthy hewn scent in.

“I’ve been in this body for months now,” She says in a cracked voice, “And I don’t feel comfortable, Cassian. I miss the home I knew and I miss being human. If this is what eternity is going to be for me, I don’t want it.”

Cassian holds her tighter. “You don’t mean that, Nesta.”

She feels the wind running through her hair, making the tears cold on her face.

When they get home Nesta gets in a bath prepared by Cassian. After her bath Cassian tries his best to make her as comfortable as possible. He brings her meal up to her and tucks her into bed.

At one point he reaches out to run a finger over the scar that’s left on her cheek. He looks at it confused. “I don’t remember you having this.”

The skin tingles where he touched her. “Galad gave it to me on my first day here.”

“Galad, huh?” He asks and there’s danger in his voice but Nesta knows that Galad is an Illyrian and not some human who can’t defend themselves. Galad can take the punches. “Is he from this war-camp?” Nesta nods. “Guess I’ll be paying him a nice little visit.”

Nesta rolls into bed, pulling the covers high. “You do that.”

She expects Cassian to leave but instead he touches her shoulder, making her turn to look at him. “Nesta, I can’t promise to make you human again, or give you your home back, but I can promise to stand by your side and help you in any way I can.” He tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear gently and gives her a sad smile. “And maybe when this war is over we can find your real home.” He gives her a soft kiss on the forehead and gets off her bed and makes his way out of her room.

Before he leaves Nesta calls out to him and pauses, unsure of what to say. "Thank you." The words feel foreign in her mouth, but it’s the only way she can convey her gratitude. "And Cassian," He pauses once more, cocking his head to the side, "Don't hurt Galad too badly."

He chuckles. "Now Nesta, I can't promise you that." He walks out of the room, the door closing behind him with a soft _click_.

The house is empty when she wakes up the next morning for training. She wonders if Cassian left to go back to Velaris, but secretly hopes he didn’t. But where would he be otherwise?

Nesta makes her way to the war-camp and notices a crowd of people gathered around one of the sparring rings, whopping and hollering. She nudges her way to the front and realizes what all the fuss is about: Cassian is fighting Galad, the man she first fought against and the Illyrian everyone considers to be the best novice in the camp.

“Fine man, that one is.” Elize says with a smile on her face. The other women nod approvingly. Nesta shakes her head in disgust.

“Galad has been in this camp since the beginning,” Nesta says in an annoyed tone, “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything good about him.”

The women all laugh but it’s Ramsii who answers for them, “We don’t mean Galad, Nesta, we’re talking about Commander Cassian.”

Nesta notices Cassian look around, searching for the source of the laughter. His hazel eyes catch her gray ones and he winks at her before ducking his head to avoid a swipe from Galad’s sword.

The women giggle and Nesta rolls her eyes. She’s surrounded by a bunch of romantics.

“My father would love a union between the two of us,” Aria says.

Nesta looks at her strangely, “But he’s a bastard?”

Aria shrugs her shoulders. “So? He’s a commander in Rhy’s army _and_ one of the most powerful Illyrians, why would a father _not_ want a union?”

“He might be a bastard,” Ramsii added, “But he’s a well-connected bastard.”

“And,” Elize said, “Don’t forget the _impressive_ wingspan!”

The women continued to giggle. Nesta wanted to throttle all of them. She had no control over Cassian’s life but for some reason, she didn't want him anywhere near these women.

"Hey, Nesta," Ramsii said, "You're pretty familiar with High Lord Rhysand, do you know anyone _else_ in his Inner Circle?"

Nesta knows they're trying to get to Cassian because of course every woman wants an advantageous union. These women don’t know how deeply embroiled in the Inner Circle she is. If only they knew their High Lady was her sister.

"Why should it matter?" Nesta snapped. "I've only ever talked to the High Lord a couple of times."

"Oh, don't snap at her," Elize says in a playful tone, "It's not every day that a Commander visits a war-camp."

"And gives us this perfect show!" A female novice interjected. The women resume the giggling.

Their giggles eventually turned into silence as they continued watching the match between the two men. They are both shirtless and while Cassian’s chest and back are tattooed with the markings of a full Illyrian warrior, Galad’s body is bare. Nesta knew that Cassian vastly outclassed Galad and was only holding himself back in the match. By keeping the match with Galad going Cassian was probably hoping to tire his opponent out. Galad's temper was rising and she could tell in every sloppy move he made.

He throws his sword to the ground and yells at Cassian, "You fucking bastard, come get me! Stop wasting time by playing around!"

Cassian casually twirls his sword in his hand, as if this was only a warm-up and not a real fight. To him this might have been only a warm-up. "I mean I'd come straight at you if you gave me a _real_ challenge."

"I'm the best novice in this war-camp," Galad said with a smirk on his face, "You'll find no better challenge here than me."

Cassian sighs deeply, "Whatever you say, Galad." He points towards Galad’s sword, “You’ll need that.”

“I don’t. I can defeat you without it.” Galad moves into a fighting stand, his hands balled up into fists. Nesta has been given enough lessons by Cassian and Azriel to know that it’s a stance is sloppy. Galad’s defeat is going to be swift.

Cassian shrugs and throws his sword to the ground. He stands straight, daring Galad to make a completely amateur move and rush at him. Galad took the bait. He runs to Cassian, his arm moving forward to make a direct punch to the face. Cassian catches his fist and throws a harder and faster punch at him. Galad falls to the ground in one fell swoop.

The crowd erupts in cheers and Nesta sees money exchange hands. She watches as Cassian kicks a bit of dirt onto Galad’s body. He gives her a quick glance then leans down and whispers in his ear. Nesta doesn’t need to be there to know what he said.

_This is for Nesta_.

“Now that this circus is done, time to get back to work,” Lord Devlon tries to say over the crowd. “And Cassian, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t manhandle my men.”

Cassian stretches and a grin covers his face, “He challenged me, Lord Devlon.”

Nesta snorts and follows the rest of the women as the crowd disperses. She feels a tap on her shoulder and turns to see Cassian. She can sense the women around her getting curious.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” He says as he presents her with a red rose.

“Get out of my face, Cassian,” She says as she takes the rose from him.

He laughs and takes to the skies, the wind from his wings ruffling her hair.

“Well girls,” Elize says with a smile, “Guess Cassian is off limits.”

“Anyone of you can have him.” Nesta says.

“I don’t think he’d want any one of us.” Ramsii adds with a conspirational smile on her face.

Nesta shakes her head, “You guys are just looking at things too hard.”

They take to the skies and Ramsii yells over the sound of wind, “You’re just ignoring the signs, Nesta.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No lie but I’ve been imagining Cassian as Jason Momoa lately. Maybe it’s the hair?  
> I made a playlist for Nesta! [here's the setlist](http://rainbrosandcolors.tumblr.com/post/150408856643/harder-and-stronger-than-bone-and-blood-a-mix), let me know what you think :)


	5. Into the Jungle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating anything in the past couple of weeks. I actually participated in National Novel Writing Month, aka NaNoWriMo in November! I had to basically write a novel, which is a minimum of 50,000 words, in thirty days so I didn’t really have time for any extra writing in November. I did manage to reach the 50k so there’s that!  
> So here I am, back and ready to finish this story.

The Blood Rites were getting closer and closer and Cassian had taken it upon himself to personally train Nesta. So when she wasn’t with the other novices or doing training exercises or flying exercises, she was training in the woods with Cassian.

The first time he gave her a private lesson they were trudging their up a mountain on their way for an overnight exercise in the woods. Nesta didn’t know how to fend for herself and therefore Cassian took extra steps in teaching her how to survive in the wild.

“While we’re here you’re not allowed to use your Siphons or any other type of magic,” He explained to her as they walked.

“If I have magic,” She asked as she walked behind him, “Don’t you think I need to, I don’t know, maybe _use_ it?”

Cassian just laughed. “Maybe in a battlefield, but not the Blood Rites, sweetheart.” And so they continued trekking up the mountain. Nesta stayed behind him and glared at his back, thinking of all the ways she could possibly hurt him without using her magic.

A few days into their new roommate status Nesta noticed that Cassian had started using _darling_ and _sweetheart_ towards her. At first it was to mock her.

_Hit a little bit harder, sweetheart_ , he would tell her in between their exercises, _I barely felt that hit_.

She would snarl in response and try to hit him harder. It didn’t always work.

And eventually she couldn’t tell if he was mocking her by using the endearments.

_Focus you magic through your siphons, darling_ , he would say as he held her hand and ran a finger over the cool turquoise stone that was placed on her palm. It didn’t sound cruel so Nesta just let it be.

During their nightly practices in the mountains Cassian always took it upon himself to attack her at every moment, and especially when she wasn’t expecting it.

“There’s plenty of feuds between novices and their families,” He explained to her night after she had complained for the hundredth time. “Killing is allowed during the Blood Rites and many of the novices will take care of their feuds during this time.” He taps her nose and she scrunches it up. He just gives her a grin. “So watch your back at all times, sweetheart.”

She was out in a river getting water for her pack, when she felt Cassian’s presence appear next to her. His magic didn’t have a friendly feel to it so Nesta immediately put up a barrier of fire. She realized her mistake when she saw Cassian’s face of disappointment. It was too late to turn back though, she might as well continue to use her magic against him.

“You can’t use magic during the Blood Rites, darling.” He said as he placed hit after hit. Nesta kept using her barriers to keep him at bay but Cassian had fought in more wars than Nesta had years and managed to make every hit. “Use your weapons.”

Cassian then opened his wings and took to the sky, using the position of the sun to blind Nesta. Nesta placed her palm on the ground and a barrier of dirt slinked over her, forming a dome over her crouched body. She knew he was going to come down and she wanted to be prepared.

She felt him slam hard against her dome, some of the dirt above her head falling. Again and again he went against her small dirt dome, more and more dirt falling on her. Nesta looked above her and saw cracks appearing on what she thought was solid and packed dirt. She was going to need to come up with another plan, and quickly. So far she had noticed that there was a five second delay between hits. Maybe Cassian was taking to the skies so that he could use his downward momentum to magnify his hits. Which meant that whatever Nesta planned to do to escape him she would have to do it in the five second time slot.

She thought about her surroundings. Water to the left and dense forest to the right. If she can fly fast enough she can make it into the forest and lose him long enough to distract him. She just had to fly and fast.

He slams against her mound of dirt once more and so she has five seconds. The barrier breaks down around her, spilling the dirt right on top of her. Nesta opens her wings and pushes against the ground. The dirt in the air moves in a whirlwind behind her. She’s one step away from the edge of the forest when she sense Cassian right behind her.

Fuck. It seemed as if he knew what she was going to do before she wanted to do it. He probably stayed on the ground after that last hit.

He grabs her arm and slams her against the floor, her cheek rubbing roughly against the rocks. Nesta flaps her wings but Cassian remained unfazed and rubbed his knee on her back, pushing her deeper into the ground.

“There’s an old magic on the mountains, Nesta,” He tells her while he holds her down. “You can’t use your wings or your Siphons and magic while the Blood Rites are in session.” He released her and walked around her. Nesta takes a deep breath and rolls onto her back and her eyes follow him. “You have to use your strength and weapons because they’re the only things you’ll have on the mountain. You’re not a human anymore and your body _is_ a weapon, so use it.”

But Nesta knew there was a way around it somehow. She fought against a High Lord’s enchantment once and she will do it again. She didn’t tell Cassian about her plan though, he might pass it on to Rhysand and then there would be no way for her to weasel her magic through the buffers.

Nesta woke up one morning and she knew nothing was going to be the same after today. The Blood Rites were starting tomorrow, and although she _knew_ she was ready, she didn’t _feel_ ready. She lay in bed and watched as the sun slowly lit the room up. There was no warrior led training in the war camp today, but they didn’t say anything against the novices doing their own training.

She slowly raised herself from her warm bed and winced as her body starting aching. It seemed as if they training they went through the day before was a little harder on her body than she had expected.

And so here was Nesta, putting on the Illyrian fighting leathers slowly and making sure all her weapons were in place. She felt Cassian’s presence in the dining room and she decided that she would ask him for one last lesson before the big day.

This time next week Nesta Archeron will be a full-fledged Illyrian warrior and finally be allowed to face off with the King of Hybern in the battlefield.

Nesta ran down the steps and turned into the small kitchen. As usual Cassian was up and making breakfast, but instead of wearing his typical fighting leathers he was shirtless. His bare back was to her as her prepared breakfast and for a split second Nesta had the sudden urge to reach a hand out and run her hand along the tattoos that covered his back and shoulders. She caught herself mid thought and scowled. She should certainly _not_ be thinking like that.

“Train with me today.” She didn’t even ask him, she demanded.

His head turned slightly and she caught his wide smile from over his shoulders. “No can do, sweetheart.”

Nesta crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one foot. It seemed as if it was going to be one of _those_ day. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the Blood Rites are tomorrow.”

She heard the loud _click_ of him turning off the stove and watched as he fixed himself a large plate of whatever he had made. As usual he left some on the stove for her. He took his plate to the small table, pulled the chair out, and plopped down on the seat. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” He said as he started digging in, “But Lord Devlon canceled all training for today. Even training initiated outside of the war camp.”

“What am I supposed to do? The Blood Rites start tomorrow and I need to train.”

Cassian looked up from his meal and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do you doubt yourself, Nesta?”

“Of course not,” Nesta said scowling.

Cassian just shrugged and continued on with his meal. “Then you don’t need that extra training.” Nesta opened her mouth to protest against him but Cassian spoke before she could say anything. “Tonight is the Blood Rite Celebration. Lord Devlon didn’t cancel all training just because he’s a prick, even though he is a large prick.”

“I’ve never heard of the Blood Rite Celebrations.” Nesta said.

“You’ve been a human your whole life,” Cassian responded, “Of course you haven’t. I can’t really explain it to you well, but you’ll be with the other women until tonight.”

“And you?”

“With the other men, of course.” He stood up, having finished his meal. He took his plate with him to the sink and washed it out. He flicked her nose and Nesta swatted his hand away. Cassian just laughed and walked his way to the door. Nesta followed behind him. He left the door open behind him and Nesta leaned against the open door and watched him roll his shoulders and spread his wings out. A chilly wind passed by and Nesta wondered if he was cold.

“Go to the women’s side of the war camp,” He said, facing her, “And I will see you tonight.” And with a deep boom he was gone for the skies. The cool breeze from Cassian’s wings ruffled her hair back.

Nesta watched as he quickly made his way across the sky and towards what she believed was the men’s section of the camp. She then spread her own wings and took off towards the women’s section.

When she finally came over the camp and landed she saw that all the women were as barely clothed as Cassian was.

Ramsii was the first one to greet her when she landed. Ramsii grabbed her elbow and leaned in close. “Why are you wearing your fighting leathers, Nesta?”

Nesta looked around confused. What were the celebrations of tonight going to consist of? “I… I was going to train.”

Ramsii just laughed and tugged her forward towards a tent in the middle. “I guess we all forgot to tell you about the celebrations before the Blood Rites. Usually we women cooked for the men, but now there’s four of us joining in the Blood Rites, so it’ll be a bit different but kind of the same.” They walked into the tent and Nesta saw that Elize and Aria sitting on chairs while someone rubbed white pain over every available bit of skin on the back and shoulders. “The novices taking the Blood Rites get painted to show where their warrior tattoos would be. And we are the first women to do this.”

Ramsii smiled up at her and then different women came out and whisked Nesta away. What she was wearing was not appropriate, they told her. She was not going to fight she was going to celebrate tonight. And so after changing into something more revealing she was placed in a chair beside Ramsii and they painted her body with the white paint.

Although the white pain contrasted beautifully with the other Illyrians’ skin tones, the white paint practically blended in with Nesta’s pale skin.

“We might need something darker for her,” Aria said teasingly, but Nesta ignored it. She just had to get through today and all the celebrations it entailed.

The sun started to go down and the painters started putting the final touches on their canvases. The last and final thing they put on the four novice women was a heart on the left shoulder.

Nesta pointed at it and asked the woman what it meant. Nesta had seen plenty of symbols tattooed over the men’s skin but she had never seen the heart on them. The women just smiled and pressed her hand lightly on it, being careful not to smudge the not dry yet paint. “It’s the symbol of the new warrior women.”

Nesta felt proud.

They heard a shout outside of the tent and a woman flipped the flap over and spoke to them. They all looked towards her. “The Celebration is about to begin.”

The woman who painted on her nodded and the room rustled with movement. Everyone was ready to attend the Celebration and Nesta was excited to see what would happen. The women migrated to the center of the war-camp. From the skies Nesta saw that most of the men and women were already present and small fires raged around them with one large one in the middle.

She landed as did the rest of the men and women. Screams, yells, and war cries filled the air. She watched as both the men and women danced around the fire and asked whatever gods they believed in for good luck. From somewhere Nesta heard the war drums sound and felt it in her blood. One of the women grabbed her hand and tugged her through to join the dancing. It seemed as if Nesta would be forced to participate despite her unwillingness.

The celebrations went on all night. She wondered how they were expected to pass the first day of the Blood Rites if they all showed up tired and drained, but maybe that’s what the creators expected. May the strongest survive and the strongest would fight hard even with their bodies being as tired and sore as they was.

She watched as the other novices got into fights and the women urged them on. Some of the men and women sneaked out into the woods and into tents and no one asked them questions.

“This is the last night for some of these people,” Cassian whispers into her ear. Nesta hasn’t realized that he had appeared beside her. She turns her head to face him and sees a childish smile on his face. Her eyes run over his bare body and that’s when she notices the ash and dirt smudged on his chest. He something must’ve put the ash on him. Or maybe someone put it on him. Nesta frowns. She feels like ripping the person apart but catches herself. Why should she care?

Nesta angles her body to see him better and be a little closer to him. It’s loud and she wanted to hear him clearly. She cocked her eyebrows at him, pointing her head at the smudges covering his chest, “Someone clearly is.”

He looks down confused, then notices the ash smudged on him. He looks up at her, a wide smile on his face. He steps closer to her and in a low voice whispers in her ear, “Didn’t you hear that it’s the end of the world, sweetheart?”

He’s close enough to make her lose her balance and she reaches a hand out to grip his shoulder and keep herself upright. His skin is hot to the touch and she doesn’t know if he’s naturally like that or the fire warmed his body up. She watched as her hand further smudges the ash on his chest. The corner of her lip turned up and she pulled him down. She feels a shiver run through his body when her lips touch his ear and she whispers, “And then the woman will inherit the world.”

They pulled back from each other. The fires made the shadows dance in his face and his eyes were brighter, more hazel. Nesta’s smile widened and so did Cassian’s.

She goes to bed soon after their exchange, her body too filled with nerves for what morning will bring.

_Do you really think you will pass, child_? The Cauldron had taken to haunting her dreams, night after night, digging seeds of doubt in her mind. She hadn’t told Cassian about the change in interactions.

_I can and I will_ , Nesta responded. The Cauldron laughed in response.

But she felt like she was being tugged and thrown around. She wanted to awake but she couldn’t. What was going on outside her dreams?

Nesta was jolted awake and realized that she wasn’t in her warm bed in the cabin anymore. Somehow she had been transported to the mountain in which the Blood Rites would take place. She was under the impression that they would be directed to their spots but as it turned out the overseers wanted them oblivious to what was going on.

Nesta stood up and took in her surroundings. The area she was in seemed just like the hundreds of other mountains that she had flown over and trained in, white with snow and bare of fae. Through the faint outline of the trees she could see a large mountain in the distance with several of black figures fluttering around it. The meeting point for the novices who would soon be warriors, she guessed, with the Illyrian overseers making it their center of command. She was going to have to fight her way to the top of that mountain if she wanted herself to be considered an Illyrian warrior who was ready to be sent into battle.

She looked down at herself and expected to be wearing the same clothes as last night but instead saw that she was wearing her fighting leathers. It seemed as if they hadn’t just moved them during the night, but changed their dress to something more appropriate. She noticed that the cases on her body where she kept her turquoise Siphons were bare.

She tried to open up her wings and use her magic and found that it was blocked. She cursed under her breath. She had been using her magic and her ability to fly as a crutch all these months and now that she didn’t have them she felt human once more. Once she craved the ability to even _feel_ human but now that she was living it, she didn’t know if she wanted it. What good was a human amongst all these Illyrians whose very own bodies doubled as weapons?

She heard a branch snap behind her and she immediately pulled a _stiletto_ from her wrist guard and moved seamlessly into a defensive position. She turned to see Cassian standing behind her.

“Where am I?” She snarled. She felt her magic flare up but there was no manifestation of it. She was truly on her own now with only her weapons as her defense.

“The Blood Rites are about to begin, Nesta,” He answered. “The High Lords of old put enchantments on these mountains and you can’t use your wings or your Siphons to channel your magic.” There was a flutter overhead and he looked up. “You will be guarded day and night. All killing is allowed.” He looked back down and met her eyes and gave her a grin. “See you at the top of the mountain, Nesta.”

He opened his wings and took to the skies. She heard a loud gong go off in the distance. The fluttering around them increased and Nesta heard war cries and yells go off across the mountain in a cacophony of sound. Her heart pounded like a drum inside her chest.

The Blood Rites have begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blood Rites aren’t going to be this chapter, but next. We’re finally there.  
> Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and liking this story.


	6. No Church in the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s the Blood Rites! This is such a long chapter, ohmygosh. I honestly hadn’t expected it to turn out this long and I was even thinking of cutting it in two, but like why not have just one long chapter amirite.  
> Chapter title inspired by Jay Z’s and Kanye West’s song of the same name.  
> Hope you enjoy.

After Cassian had left her Nesta tried opening and releasing her magic, but nothing came out. Her wings just stayed on her back, closed and right to her body. She silently cursed under her breath after figuring out for the hundredth time that maybe Cassian was right. She ran through the rough terrain, every now and then jumping from rock to tress limb and vice versa to see if maybe a jump off was all she needed to fly. Her efforts were in vain, it changed nothing.

Cassian had told her that her body was a weapon, but she only truly knew her weak human body. How was she to compete against the fae who had spent years sharpening their bodies like the blades they were?

Nesta stopped to catch her breath and then heard a crunch near her. She immediately stilled. She had grown so used to using her magic for everything that she didn’t realize that maybe she would have to use her other senses to observe her surroundings. If Azriel and Cassian had been here they would be chastising her for being careless, but it was the Blood Rites and her ignorance could lead to her death.

_Breathe in and out_ , Nesta told herself. She could practically hear Cassian next to her telling her to open her senses. She stayed where she was, hoping that the person pursuing her could make another mistake. She heard another soft _crunch_ and turned her heads towards the sound. Everything was silent again and then she heard nibbling. It was a rabbit! She almost burst out in laughter but she remembered that Cassian’s first piece of advice was for her to have a meal. She couldn’t last a week on an empty stomach, no matter how much better a fae’s body was. She grinned as she unclasped one of the _stilettos_ she hid on her wrist. She was going to eat well.

Nesta roasted the rabbit over a small fire. As she waited for the meat to cook she thought about how useful he magic would be right now. She wouldn’t have to be waiting for the rabbit to cook, it would have already been cooked. She would have also caught it faster. And maybe in a less noisy way. She reached up to her hair and pulled out a twig that had somehow gotten caught in her upbraided hair. She had chased the rabbit through the underfoot and gotten mud and snow all over her fighting leathers. But oh well, anything for a good meal.

When Nesta deemed the meat done and well-cooked she stripped a piece off the rabbit’s body, and chewed. It was the plainest thing that she has eaten since getting turned but it would have to do. Once she was done with her meal she looked up at the sky to judge the time. The sun was already at its fullest which meant that it was already noon and no one had attacked her yet. She wondered if she was the only one in her area. In a way she was thankful for it but wondered if Cassian had purposely placed her in an area with few enemies. That bastard.

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth to clear up the grease that covered it. She left the carcass of the dead rabbit as she stood and stretched. Time to move on.

Nesta ran across the terrain, avoiding areas where she heard the most commotion. This felt easy. For now.

Nesta got too careless and unobservant once more, because after what felt like an hour of running through the woods, she felt someone jump onto her back and slam her to the side. Fortunately the only thing she hit was the side of a tree, but it still knocked the breath out of her and blacked her vision out for a moment.

If Cassian and Azriel had seen this they would have been disappointed in her.

She laid on the ground and waited for her breathing and vision to go back to normal. She wasn’t sure who stood in front of her, since all she could see right now was a black blob surrounded by white and brown trees. Nesta tried to stand up but her body felt too wobbly. She let her body fall back and she gave a humorless laugh. It seemed as if her carelessness had spelled the end for her.

“You have me,” Nesta said. She thought back to Cassian’s words on that first trek, that many of the novices _take care_ of old feuds. Maybe someone got her to take care of whatever imaginary feud they believed they had with her. “I’m here, ready for you. Go on and eliminate an opponent.”

She saw the black blob in front of her walk towards her, becoming a much bigger blob. Nesta closed her eyes and tried to inconspicuously remove a dagger from her side. She wouldn’t go down without one last fight.

But the person who had caught her apparently saw what she was planning on thinking. They grabbed the dagger out of her hand. Nesta was confused for a moment. The hand that took away her dagger wasn’t large like a man’s…

“Geez, Nesta.” Ramsii. It was Ramsii that had found Nesta and not another opponent of theirs. Nesta felt like laughing in relief. Ramsii reached down and pulled her up, one of Nesta’s arms going across her shoulders. “One would think that Azriel and Cassian taught you better.”

Nesta chuckled as Ramsii walked them forward. Little by little she was beginning to regain her vision. “Guess I didn’t pay attention.”

“Well with those bodies I wouldn’t either.” Ramsii chuckled at her own joke. Nesta was just glad she wasn’t on her own.

They bunkered down that night in a cave they found on the edge of the mountain. They sat at the entrance of the cave and heard the screams and war cries echo across the mountain. The fluttering overhead let them know that despite how alone they thought they were, they were still being watched by more experienced Illyrian warriors.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Nesta asked Ramsii.

Ramsii shrugged her shoulders. “Who really knows? Maybe picking up the dead bodies?”

Nesta nodded along to her answer. “Do you think the others are okay?”

By others she meant Elize and Aria, the other two women taking the Blood Rites. Just like Nesta they hadn’t truly started their training until a few months ago. The odds were stacked against them and Nesta wondered if they could all make it out.

“They’re resourceful. Who knows, maybe we’ll find them tomorrow.”

It seemed like a genuine answer. The sounds of the killing continued. Nesta glanced towards Ramsii and saw a fearful look come across her face. Maybe she was imagining herself making those noises frightful. She leaned over and clapped her shoulder, “All men must die, Ramsii, but we are not men.” She shook Ramsii’s shoulder and pointed to the makeshift bedrolls they made out of the available leaves and debris lying around on the forest floor. “I’ll take first watch, you go to sleep.”

Ramsii nodded and made her way to the back. Nesta followed her and once she saw Ramsii lay down and make herself comfortable she turned back to watch the world outside their small cave.

One day down, six more to go.

_She was being held back and she knew where this was going. She recognized the room and the Cauldron that sat in the middle. Her worst enemy, her worst nightmare. She was physically prepared for what this dream would bring, but not mentally._

This isn’t what you’re used to, child _, a familiar voice whispered in her ear._

_Nesta was confused then she saw what she meant. From the corner of the room, right from where she was pushed in from that first time, came Ramsii, Elize, and Aria, all held back by Hyberian fae._

_Her heart beat against her chest harder than before._ No, no, no _._

_“Stop!” She yelled as she pushed against her captors, “Stop, no, don’t take them!”_

_She struggled against the person holding her back but as she was starting to realize, she was only human and a human can’t fight against a fae._

_“They’re fae, they’re already fae! You don’t want them!” The three Illyrian women were bound and gagged. It reminded Nesta too much of the night that she and Elain were stolen. She started dry heaving, her legs gave out underneath her but the person holding her kept her upright so she could watch as the women were thrown into the Cauldron one by one._

You’re just human, Nesta _, the Cauldron whispered to her. It was as if she was standing next to her, and actual, living breathing fae._

I need to protect them _, Nesta whimpered under her breath._

A human can’t protect against the fae _, she was told in a cold voice,_ You want to be human, and you will suffer like a human _._

_She watched as one by one they were thrown into the Cauldron. When the Cauldron flipped over and dumped them in the ground they remained lifeless. They were already fae, there was nothing the Cauldron couldn’t give to them, only give._

_Nesta screamed and pushed but there was nothing she could do._

Nesta felt a push against her shoulder and on instinct she took a knife from one of her scabbards and in the same movement pushed the person against the ground. She held her knife to a scared Ramsii’s throat. Nesta’s breathing slowed but Ramsii’s scared look turned to one of worry.

“You were screaming and…” Her voice faded. Nesta pushed off of her and to the entrance. The sunlight streamed into their cave and she tried to slow her breathing. This was the first true nightmare she’s had in a while.

“Don’t wake me, Ramsii.” Nesta told her.

“If there’s anything you need to talk about-“ She started but Nesta interrupted her.

“I have _nothing_ I need to talk about.” She snapped. She had only every talked to Azriel about her fears. Azriel, with his beautiful face and scarred hands. He understood.

They stretched their bodies out and in between they yawned. Because of both the celebrations the past night and the fact that they had to take turns keeping watch, they didn’t get a lot of sleep. When they were true warriors and on the battlefield maybe they wouldn’t be getting much sleep either and maybe the Blood Rites were also a test to see how well they could last while still feeling tired.

As Nesta and Ramsii worked out their last stretched Nesta decided to open up her magic and once again it hit against the brick wall that was the High Lord’s enchantment. Nesta glanced at Ramsii standing beside her and wondered if she could sense her attempts. She didn’t look at her any different, so maybe she hadn’t.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ramsii asking her a question, “Are we searching for Aria and Elize today?”

Nesta didn’t answer, instead she looked up at the Illyrian Headquarters on the mountain peak. They were in a position where the building could be seen clearly and Nesta saw as different Illyrian patrols moved in and out. She was much closer to it than she was yesterday and if they kept up with no interruptions she should easily and quickly make it. But she couldn’t just leave the other women behind to fend for themselves against opponents much rougher and with many more years of training then them. Nesta turned her gaze back to Ramsii and nodded. A look of relief crossed her face and Nesta knew that Ramsii would have stayed behind for the other women regardless of what she had said. Nesta rubbed her shoulder, right above the area where the heart was painted. They were warrior women and they needed to stick together.

Nesta felt something cold and wet hit her cheek. She looked up and saw that it was snowing. She shook her shoulders to shake off any snow that was beginning to accumulate on her wings but stopped herself, her wings had become immobile since the Blood Rites had started yesterday morning.

Ramsii noticed her movement and laughed. “It feels weird, doesn’t it?” She came forward and brushed the snow herself from Nesta’s wings. “My mother’s wings don’t work and I always wondered how she ever did it. Flying around everywhere seems so much easier.” She turned around so Nesta could return the favor.

“Your mother’s wings don’t work?” She asked as she gently tried to brush the snow off.

Ramsii hummed out an answer before she continued speaking, “Long before I was born and before Rhysand became our High Lord they used to clip the women’s wings. But Rhysand stopped it all. My father is ever so grateful for that, and for the opportunity for me to become a real warrior.” Nesta’s hands stilled. A father who cared for this daughter. _I wonder what that’s like_ , Nesta thought bitterly. Her hand moved through Ramsii’s wings once again, finishing up her task. She stopped and Ramsii turned, a smile on her face. The both turned to the edge of the cave and jumped, using the rocks below as stepping stones to get back on the ground.

They spent most of the morning making their way through the forest. Every now and then Nesta would look up and see the Headquarters looming closer and closer. She was glad to be almost there but everything felt… weird. She had spent almost a day and a half out here in the field and _nothing_ has happened to her. When Cassian described the Blood Rites she expected to be met with an enemy every day, possibly every hour, but that wasn’t the case.

They had stopped to rest and Nesta looked around. Ramsii was at the edge of a stream drinking water while Nesta stayed behind. Where was everyone?

Then they heard a scream. They both paused their movements and Ramsii turned towards her, water dribbling from her lips. They waited. Maybe it was just a bird making the noise. The scream sounded out again and the two of them burst into action.

“It came from back here!” Ramsii said, running towards an area south of their position. Nesta gave one glance to the Headquarters they were running from, and then ran forward to follow Ramsii.

They heard the growls of wolves and Nesta cursed under her breath. Cassian had told her that they starved the wildlife in the weeks leading up to the Blood Rites to give the novices an extra hurdle to overcome and it appeared that they had actually done it.

There was a long branch up ahead. Nesta jumped up and grabbed onto it, then pushed all her weight down and the wood cracked. She ran her fingers over her new weapon. The end was sharp enough to hurt if she pushed hard enough. She didn’t have a weapon long enough to keep the wolves at bay but this would have to do. She heard a crack beside her and turned to see that Ramsii had done the same.

A little ways ahead Nesta saw the gray of the wolves’ fur, and saw they were following someone with long braided hair. Judging by the slight figure Nesta guessed it to one of the last two members of their group. The wolves were getting closer and closer to her.

“Remember that just as this wood is our weapon, it could also hurt us.” Nesta called out to Ramsii. She just nodded in understanding. Nesta gripped onto the wood a little tighter. She remembered being human and not having to worry if the firewood would hurt her. She also remembered being human and watching someone snatch her and Elain up like they were toys.

She motioned Ramsii to the right while she took the left. They’ll battle the wolves from end to end until they reached the middle. On instinct Nesta outstretched a hand, hoping to brush the wolves off with her magic but as usual her attempts were quelled by the enchantment on the mountain. She saw the person the wolves were chasing trip and one of the wolves came up but she got up just before it managed to jump on her. They needed to be quick because it seemed as if she wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“Now!” Nesta yelled out and they jumped into the fray. At first the wolves didn’t notice them, but once they did they split amongst the three of them. Nesta guessed that they were the biggest meal they’ve probably had in weeks.

She cracked her stick against the wolves that came upon her. She heard their whimpers and cries of pain. They backed off a bit and Nesta grinned. She might have actually done it. But then one of them jumped on her back and slammed her against the ground. Her stick got knocked out of her hands and she could feel that the animal had left a cut on her wings. The wolf must have noticed that her back was open and decided that while the rest of the pack kept her busy they would take their chance. Nesta had committed mistake after mistake, she was lucky she was still alive.

The wolf growled in her face and Nesta could feel the heat and putrid smell of its breath. She fisted a hand and punched its face but the wolf remained unfazed, instead putting her forearm into its mouth. Lucky for Nesta the fighting leathers were tough and her _stiletto_ scabbard kept her forearm safe but that didn’t stop the wolf from trying. Nesta tried to wrestle her arm from the wolf’s grip but the animal just bit down harder, its teeth bearing down tighter on her skin. The fighting leathers and scabbard might not protect her as long as she liked.

Despite the wolf’s immense weight on her body she shuffled around on the ground and reached to her back for her sword. There was the ring of metal in the air but the wolf was still focused only on her arm. Nesta maneuvered her sword between their bodies, trying her hardest to not hurt herself. She pointed the sword into the wolf’s chest, and pushed.

The animal whimpered in pain and let go of her arm but Nesta kept pushing. She threw the wolf off of her and onto the ground beside her. She stood over its body and pushed even harder, through the muscle and sinew that was in the animal’s body. The wolf’s whimpers became louder and its legs kicked against the ground when suddenly it stopped moving. Nesta put her entire weight behind her sword and twisted, the crunch of bones sounding in the air, and made sure that the animal was truly dead.

Nesta breathed hard, white wisps of smoke forming in front of her face. She hadn’t realized both how cold it was starting to become.

She looked up. The pack was gone but there were a couple of wolves laying on the ground hurt. Ramsii was standing upright, holding up Aria. Aria looked shaken but unhurt. Nesta smiled, “Hello there, friend.”

Ramsii ended up inspecting Nesta’s wings while Aria assured them that the other wolves were truly dead. Nesta felt a tingle running up her spine as Ramsii ran her fingers over the delicate membrane that made up her wings. These wings were truly as sensitive as they had told her.

“When the men are children their first lessons consist of taking care of their wings,” Ramsii explained as she continued with her task. In the background there was the crunch of snow and the sound of steel on bone as Aria ran her sword through the wolves. “But when the women are children we’re taught how to take care of the household. Despite High Lord Rhysand banning clippings the men still don’t think we need our wings. But we’re learning to take care of our wings, just like the men.” Ramsii patted the area between Nesta’s wings. She was finally done with her inspection. “So remember to give your wings priority above all else. If you don’t have your wings are you even an Illyrian?”

Nesta nodded and remembered those first few days as a fae and watching as Cassian hid himself away. He might’ve given his wings away for his friend but he would’ve given his life away to not have to live without this wings. She hadn’t understood his desperation back then but now after having her won wings and the freedom they give her she does. “So they’re fine?”

“The wolf just gave you a scratch. Nothing you can’t heal from within an hour.”

Nesta stood and looked around. They were all bloody and dirty with their hair mussed. What would human Nesta have thought of the Nesta who had to battle a wolf for her life?

Aria ran her sword through the body of the last wolf and she looked up at them. “Are we just going to leave the bodies here for the other animals to find?”

Ramsii nodded yes but Nesta shook her head no. “I don’t think we’ve eaten in a while,” Nesta said, “And the meat would do us good.” She was still sitting next to the wolf she had killed and she reached over to run her hands over the dead animal’s coat. So soft yet it was turning cold so fast. “We could use their furs for warmth.”

The women agreed and chose a different wolf to skin. In the end they walked away with a full fur each but had only brought pieces of the wolf with them. The wolves were still bleeding out and they didn’t want to leave any signs to their whereabouts. They once again found another small cave in the mountain and decided to hunker down inside. They made a small fire and cooked the meat over it as well as let the furs dry out alongside it. The screams and fluttering continued on outside their safe space. Nesta looked out northward and saw the dark outline of the Headquarters. _Almost there_ , she told herself.

Nesta walked away from the mouth of the cave and sat down with the women to enjoy their meal.

“Have you guys seen any of the men?” Aria asked.

They shook their heads no and Ramsii answered for them in between chews. “We’re closing out day two and you’re the only other person we’ve seen.”

A thoughtful look came on Aria’s face. “That’s weird. I’ve already gone against two of the men.”

“I see you didn’t have any problems with them,” Nesta observed. The only marks and dirt that Aria had on her body came from their battle with the wolves.

Aria laughed. “They were the weakest men in the camp, of course I would have no problems with them.” Aria dragged her finger along the stone floor. “I only knocked them out though I didn’t… kill them.”

“They’re preparing us for war, Aria,” Nesta said after a moment of silence, “Killing is kind of what we have to do.”

Aria heaved a heavy sigh. “I know but it’s just that… maybe they deserve another chance?”

_They never gave me or Elain a chance to fight_ , she wanted to say but then she would have to explain how she became fae, and she didn’t know if she was ever going to be ready to explain that. Nesta just stood up, ready to take over first watch of the night.

“I’ll take first watch,” She explained to them. “Aria, you’ll be second, and Ramsii you’ll be last.” They each nodded, understanding their duties for the night. “Tomorrow is day three, remember to be ready for what may come.”

Since they had an extra person that night they each got a bit more sleep than the night before. Nesta wasn’t plagued with her usual nightmares so she didn’t have to explain anything to Aria. When they walked out of the cave in the morning they decided to wear the furs that they had caught the day before. Their fighting leathers were black, the complete opposite of the white that surrounded them, making it much easier for their opponents to spot them. If they wore the wolves much lighter fur they might be able to blend in better and avoid confrontation.

And so they hiked northward with the Headquarters in their sights. They met small groups of other Illyrians that day, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t take of together. But Nesta realized what Elize meant about wanting to keep the other Illyrians alive. She couldn’t find it in herself to kill a man whose only goal was to be a warrior because that was her goal too.

“Do you think Elize is okay?” Aria asked as night started to fall.

“No news is good news,” Ramsii answered.

Ramsii and Nesta looked around for a cave to spend the night while Aria kept watch over them. In a fight to the death they couldn’t be too careful. In the end they couldn’t find anything and so they decided to sleep in the shade of a tree for the night. Since they were out in the open this night they decided that no fire which meant no food or warmth. As Illyrians Aria and Ramsii were used to going without. As someone who had gone years without Nesta was used to it. The only good thing was that they still had their furs to keep them warm through the night. They curled up together as one of them took the watch and Nesta was reminded of the many nights she and her sisters had to do the same thing to stay alive. Maybe she was more prepared for the Blood Rites than she had originally thought.

As Aria and Ramsii slept beside her Nesta leaned back against the tree. She listened to the fluttering of the overseers overhead, the sounds of the distant battles, and the sound of the forest itself. Nesta closed her eyes to concentrate and tried once more to send a piece of her magic out. As usual nothing happened and she was only met with the wall. She glanced at the women sleeping beside her. She wondered if they too tried to use their magic or had resigned themselves on that first day that they were alone with only their bodies to use.

A cool wind blew by and snow started to fall. Nesta pulled the fur up to her chin and snuggled in closer to the women to stay warm. It would be day four soon and which meant one day closer to the end. She looked up to the Headquarters that sat on top of the mountain, the goal that she wanted to reach. The only thing standing between her and the King of Hybern. She was almost there.

They found Elize on the fourth day. She was fighting against two of the boys and although she seemed to be holding her own against them she couldn’t do it alone. Aria stayed in the back giving aid to Elize while Nesta and Ramsii took care of their attackers. It was a quick battle since the men were already drained by now. Nesta slammed one of their heads against a rock, knocking him out and turned to see that Ramsii had also knocked out her opponent. They sheathed their weapons and walked towards the two other women.

“I see you’ve been holding up well enough, Elize,” Ramsii said with a smile. She hugged Elize tightly.

“Aren’t we supposed to kill them?” Elize asked them instead of greeting them.

The others looked at each other before Aria answered for them. “It’s not specifically written in the rules that they _must_ be killed.”

“So you’re just leaving their bodies out here?”

“Basically.” Ramsii said with a shrug. “Let the hungry animals here take care of them.”

Elize ran her fingers over the fur that Aria wore. “And where did you find the fur for this?” She looked at all of them. At this point they had spent four days out in the wild having to fend for themselves and provide their own shelter, food, and protection. They all looked dirty, bloody, and rough. Elize sighed.

Aria laughed and pulled her along as they walked away from the area. “Oh, do we have a story for you.”

Nesta walked ahead and everyone else walked behind her. She looked up to catch a glimpse of the building that was looming closer and closer. She told herself the same thing she had been telling herself since the first step she took towards the building, _almost there_.

_Nesta was in dark room. She looked around. It was large and dark but… it wasn’t the room that held the Cauldron and so many bad memories. Had the nightmares finally subsided?_

_She saw a flash a white from the corner of her eye and she turned her body to follow it but it was too late. She was in the dark following a wisp of a shadow._

Nesta, be careful today, _she heard the familiar voice whisper in her ear._

_“What do you care?” Nesta growled, but she was so confused and scared. The Cauldron tormented her when she spoke to her but right now she was giving her a warning._

_She felt her body slowly coming awake and right before she slid back into consciousness the Cauldron gave her one last warning,_ you can break the wall, break it _._

_What did it all mean?_

She slid awake and saw as Ramsii and Elize conferred amongst each other. Aria was still asleep beside her. Elize had taken the last watch, so Ramsii must have waken earlier than Nesta. As Nesta stood the two women who were awake gave her a worried look and Nesta felt a tightness in her chest. Maybe the Cauldron was right. It was day six and the day when everything would finally go to shit

They woke up Aria promptly and started to give a move on. As it had turned out that someone had been following them for the past twelve hours. Nesta was mad at herself for having only focused on the end game and not the journey. So far they had gotten lucky and not gotten into altercations with much stronger males but it might change today.

“How did you figure this out?” Nesta asked them as they ran hurriedly. She hoped they still weren’t following them but that was empty wish.

“I saw their tracks when I took over watch,” Ramsii said. Ramsii was second watch, straight after Nesta. _Mistake, after mistake_. _Stupid so stupid_. “And I waited until morning to check over the tracks again and… they’re not animal tracks, they’re definitely male and they’ve been following us for a while from what it seems like.”

She remembered her dream from last night. What was the Cauldron doing getting into her dreams? She looked down at the hand she had fisted. _Had I taken the Cauldron with me when I came out?_

She looked up at the Headquarters with all the Illyrians flitting around it. _Almost there_.

The forest was beginning to fill with whoops of laughter and war cries. Nesta’s heart fell and the women around her wore scared faces. The men had caught up and Nesta wondered if they had fallen into their faces.

“Stick together,” Nesta said in a determined voice. They moved together, back to back. They all unsheathed their swords, the sound of metal ringing in the air. From the woods around them appeared a group of three males led by Galad. Nesta growled. There weren’t many people here who had a bone to pick with her, but he sure did.

“Well, well, well,” Galad said in his gruff voice, “What do we have here?”

“The losers of the war-camp it seems,” responded one of the males. They all laughed.

“Why have you been leaving the men’s bodies behind you, Nesta?” Galad asked her, “Are you scared of a little blood?”

The grip she held on her sword tightened. “I am scared of _nothing_ , Galad.”

He gave her a devilish grin. For the first time in days Nesta was truly worried. “Oh, I guess then I’ll have to strike some fear into you.”

He gave a deep roar and the men ran forward.  It was four against three, but because they were women who had less training the odds were stacked against them. The first thing the men did was pull them apart. Galad was squaring off with Nesta while the three women took on the other two men. They slashed at each other but he dodged every one of her hits just as she dodged his. She’s had enough training from Azriel and Cassian to be an even match to Galad’s brute force.

She pushed him away and she crouched down as he picked himself up. From the corner of her eye she saw one of the men pick up a large trunk from the ground and Aria who was desperately trying to pick herself back up. Ramsii and Elize were already taking one man so Aria was left by herself. Nesta saw as the man swung the trunk high, and slammed it on the side of Aria’s face.

A scream ripped through the forest and Nesta’s heart fell. _No, no, no_.

All three women ran forward but Nesta had unfortunately turned her back to Galad, a huge mistake on her part. He gripped her shoulder and brought her to him while the two other women ran to Aria’s side.

Galad had his forearm across her chest and a dagger at her throat. There wasn’t much Nesta could do other than let Galad’s will be done, but that wasn’t something she was actually going to do.

In front of her stood Ramsii and Elize, both of them holding Aria up. Aria was too hurt to be able to finish this in one piece and Nesta doubted that Ramsii and Elize would be able to take care of both Aria and their enemies.

Nesta made a motion with her head, “Walk away.”

They looked at her with shocked looks. It was Ramsii who spoke up for them, “We can’t leave you here with them, Nesta!”

Nesta was being held down by Galad while two of his cronies stood beside them. The three women in front of her didn’t have the training given to them by commanders of Rhysand’s armies, they trained with the other men and so some of their training was stunted. Add to the equation a hurt Aria and they really wouldn’t be able to go up against the three Illyrian males.

As she has been doing almost every hour for the past six days, Nesta let her magic loose. Usually it would feel like her magic was being blocked by a brick wall, but Nesta has been throwing her magic at the brick wall for so long that it had slowly been turning into a glass wall, and the glass was getting cracks on it.

Nesta gave the women a wicked grin. The men had their backs to her and didn’t notice her change of expression, but the women did. They gave a quick glance amongst each other and then turned back to the men.

“Fine,” Ramsii called out to them, “Go on and keep Nesta. We’ll leave.”

Nesta felt Galad’s rumbling chest at her back. “Good decision, girls. Now go on, run along. We’ll see you at the top.” But judging from the looks of Galad’s cronies Nesta knew that it was all a farce. Galad and the men would let the women have a head start, but they’ll go back to the hunt.

The women gave Nesta and the men one last look and then turned around. Once they were out of earshot the men turned towards her.

“Now, we can have some fun.” One of the men said. Nesta snarled and bared her teeth at him.

Galad laughed, “Look boys, it looks like we have a feisty one.”

“Oh, they’re always the best.” The other man said. They took a step towards her while Galad held onto her tighter and dug the dagger a little bit harder onto her skin.

_Breathe in and out_ , she heard Cassian’s voice practically whisper into her ear, _don’t let your fear and anger get the best of you_.

Her magic usually went out of control when she went into one of the two extremes. _Sorry, Cassian, but I’ll need my anger for this one_. She might tear this whole area down, but it was a risk she was willing to take.

Nesta growled at the men coming towards her. She kicked her feet up and used her feet to hit each of the men coming towards her. The force of her kick sent the men to the floor, and Galad tumbling backwards. Galad was beginning to lose both his footing and grip. Good.

Nesta quickly moved her body downwards so her feet could once again touch the ground, and because Galad was unstable it was easy to throw him off of her. She was in the middle of the three men. They were all on the floor but they were quickly brushing themselves off and standing. Galad had the gall to _laugh_.

“Good try at escaping, _darling_ ,” When Cassian called her that he was typically mocking her, but coming out of Galad’s mouth it sounded _wrong_. Galad stretched his arms out to signify the men around her, “But as you can see you’re outnumbered. You’re not coming out, it was all in vain. Although you did buy your girls a little time.”

They laughed. Nesta stretched her fingers out. She could feel a crackle between them and she smiled. She took one deep breath in, and one hard breath out.

_You can break the wall, break it_.

She pushed an intense heat out of her body. The snow surrounding them melted and the men crouched down and covered their bodies as best they could. She saw as a shocked look come on the men’s faces.

“You can’t do that!”

Nesta’s lips quirked up. “Says who?”

Her control over her magic was unstable without the Siphons for her to flow the magic through, but she will do the best with what she’s got. The water from the melted ice seeped from out of the ground and hovered over them. A gust of wind blew through the area with Nesta being the eye of the storm.

Cassian waits in the large building on top of the mountain, the building that marks the Blood Rites’ finish line, the Illyrian Headquarters. It was day six and the finalists were starting to pour in. He stood at the entrance to the building and watched as the novices walked in, bloody and hurt but happy. They were not novices anymore, they were true warriors and they had proved it in the Blood Rites. But as Cassian’s eyes glanced over them he was searching for a small, pale women. She hadn’t appeared yet but she would eventually, he was sure of it.

He looked to the trees covering the mountain and terrain and he wondered where Nesta was at right now. He knew where her starting position was and therefore he had a vague idea of where she was, but he wanted to know where she _truly_ was positioned.

He was still looking over the region when he suddenly saw a burst of fire and wind cover one small area. He watched as the snow dispersed from the area and some of the trees fell, the large boom of it resonating across the mountain. Cassian opened his wings, ready to move and defend in case it was an enemy attack but he saw one of the Blood Rites’ overseers hover over the area, swoop down once then twice, and then come back up, hurtling towards the Illyrians’ Headquarters.

He landed next to Cassian but the warrior paid him no mind and brushed past him. Cassian reached a hand out and grabbed onto the overseer’s elbow before he could go too far.

“What happened down there?” He asked him.

The man he grabbed looked up at him, opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. “I need to speak to the war camp Lords,” was all he said.

Cassian growled. He hated this bureaucratic mess that was the Blood Rites. “I am Commander of the Illyrian forces, and you _will_ answer me.” He said in a hard voice, “Now, what happened down there?”

The overseer hesitated once more, but then answered, “One of the novices fought against the High Lord’s enchantment. They used their magic on the field.”

Cassian dropped the man’s elbow in shock. Somebody actually breaking free of the enchantment? Impossible! Unless…

“Who was the Illyrian who used their magic?”

The warrior in front of him opened his mouth but it wasn’t him who answered Cassian.

“It was Nesta.” Cassian whirled behind him and saw as Rhysand appeared beside him. He gave a small nod to Cassian before he turned towards the messenger who was now bowing before the High Lord of the Night Court. “Go to the war-camp Lords, they’ll want to know this and try to piece a hearing together as quickly as possible.” The messenger nodded as he stood. He then ran into the building, ready to seek out the six main war-camp Lords to tell them the news.

“Where did you come from?” Cassian asked him, “I wasn’t expecting you to show up here.”

“I wasn’t planning on being here,” Rhysand answered, “But Nesta’s breach made the mountain call to me. The mountain thinks it’s an attack.”

Cassian nodded. “And Feyre?”

“As the High Lady the mountain called out to her too.” Rhysand chuckled, “You would think that with their being _two_ of us, the spell would be harder to break but here we are. Feyre has some… _business_ to take care of, but she’ll be here soon.”

Six months into the war and it seemed as if Lucien still had to cover her tracks. “When will Feyre be back home?”

A shadow of a smile graced Rhysand’s face. “Soon.” He clapped a hand across Cassian’s shoulder, “But come, we have a hearing to attend to.”

They walked side by side down the hallway when they heard a familiar voice call out for them. They stopped and a wide smile covered Rhysand’s face. They both turned, grinning. Feyre was at the entrance to the headquarters. She had a worried look on her face.

“What’s going on, Rhys? Why was I pulled here?” She looked around where they were at and Cassian remembered that this was also the first Blood Rites with Feyre as the High Lady. She has probably never been here before. She was dressed in her fighting leathers, it was possible that she had expected another attack on Velaris but instead ended up here, on an unfamiliar mountain deep in the Illyrian Steppes.

Rhysand walked towards her and pulled her into an embrace. Feyre’s arms encircled him. He pulled back and tucked a bit of her loose hair back. “Feyre, love,” he purred, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back and pulled her forward, “Remember what I told you about the Blood Rites?” She nodded and Rhysand continued. “Well one of the novices broke the enchantment against magic and the Lords of the war-camps are calling for a hearing.”

A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “I thought they weren’t allowed to use magic here?”

“They aren’t,” Cassian answered her question. They walked together down the hallway and then into a room that led to a staircase. The hearing room that the war-camp lords will be using was underground. “But someone did it.”

Their steps echoed in the empty staircase. “Then who broke against it?”

Rhysand chuckled softly, “Oh, I can’t wait until you see the perpetrator, love.”

Feyre looked between the both of them, they were hiding something she knew. “Do I know this person?”

Rhysand and Cassian shared a look but it was Cassian who answered for the both of them, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Feyre. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Soon after defeating the men Nesta ran to join the other women. As she stood in the middle of the storm that she had created she heard their cries of pain. Once she was done she saw their mangled bodies strewn in the area. If she was a better person she would have stayed behind and checked on them, but she wasn’t and she left them there. Let the overseers worry over their wellbeing.

She caught up to women and Ramsii gave her a worried look.

“What happened back there?” She asked but Nesta just shook her head. She walked forward and took Elize’s place in holding Aria up. Elize let her and stood back.

“Scout up ahead, Elize,” Nesta told her. “We should be able to reach the Headquarters by tonight but I don’t want to have any more trouble on the way.” Elize nodded and ran forward.

“ _Nesta_ ,” Ramsii said worriedly.

Nesta once again shook her head and said in a hard voice, “I’m not answering anything, Ramsii. What’s done is done, we go forward.”

Ramsii opened her mouth as if she was going to argue her point once more but stopped. Nesta looked up at the Headquarters and grinned. They were near the shadow of the building and she was almost a warrior.

They trudged up the steps leading to the Headquarters. After this point no one would attack them and they were finally done. They reached the entrance and almost immediately one warrior came forward and took Aria from them.

“She needs to go to a healer,” The man who took them from her said, “And quick. The rest of you go down there to receive your tattoos.” He brushed past them and to a different area than the one he pointed out to them.

The women followed the man’s instructions to the place he pointed out to them. They were tired but excited. They made it, they were the first Illyrian female warriors.

At the entrance of the room they were supposed to enter there stood a warrior who guarded the entrance. They stood before him and he pointed at Nesta.

“You stay here. You two-“ He pointed at Elize and Ramsii “-are allowed to enter.”

He opened the door but instead of entering without any questions asked the two women stayed back.

“She’s here just like the rest of us, she should be allowed in. she _passed_ the Blood Rites.” Ramsii told the man.

The man just gave her a hard stare. “The war-camp Lords said that Nesta was not allowed to enter. Are you thinking of _defying_ the Lords’ wishes?”

The look on Ramsii and Elize’s said that they would defy the wishes of the Lords, but Nesta stepped into the conversation. “Don’t worry, you two go in. I’ll stay and see what the Lords want.” They gave her a worried look but Nesta just brushed it off. “Go in, get your tattoos. I’ll meet up with you later.” The women nodded and walked into the room. The man who guarded it closed the door right behind them.

Nesta stared him down, “So, what happens now?”

“Now you join me.” Nesta whirled and saw Azriel was standing behind her, a smile on his face. “Good job passing the Blood Rites, I knew you could do it.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked him. She had rarely seen him since Cassian had taken up her training. He walked towards her and lightly gripped her elbow, leading her away from there and through a door that led to a staircase and down they went.

“Rhysand called me.” He said once they started walking downwards. His voice echoed in the empty area.

“Rhysand’s here?” She was confused. Shouldn’t the High Lord be at the frontline somewhere? “What are all of you doing here?”

“Because of what _you_ did during the Blood Rites today the war-camp Lords have called for a hearing and as High Lord Rhysand is to mediate the whole thing.” Down, down they went. Nesta wondered how far they would go. “But also as High Lord his word is also the last no matter what the war-camp Lords say.”

They finally reached the bottom of the staircase. As they stepped onto the floor Nesta saw that they were in one long dark hallway that led to a single door at the end. Azriel walked down the hall towards the door and Nesta followed him.

“This door leads to the hearing room,” He explained to her. “They’re rarely used except in some serious cases.” He grinned down at her. “Like breaking the enchantments and using magic during the Blood Rites.”

Nesta growled and Azriel just chuckled. “Good job on that one too. Didn’t think there was anyone who could break an enchantment that Rhysand _himself_ fortified.” They stopped. They finally reached the door. The smile disappeared from Azriel’s face and it was completely serious. “Are you ready for what comes now, Nesta?”

She nodded and Azriel opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to quote Game of Thrones again! I thought it was appropriate since my fancast of Ramsii is Missandei.  
> As always please let me know what you think and thanks for following this story.


	7. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shows up late with Starbucks and a new chapter*

 

Nesta stepped into the room with Azriel right behind her. As soon as she entered the room she paused and took it all in.

It was a large and dark chamber with the only light being directed towards the one lonely chair in the middle. She heard a soft _click_ of a door closing and then Azriel’s soft grip on her elbow. He gently maneuvered her to the chair and had her sit down. Azriel then bent down, and locked her wrists and ankles to the chair.

_Clank, clank, clank, clank_.

Nesta felt the walls holding her magic back reappear, and she laughed aloud. After having brought down a wall made of brick, this barrier was glass thin. Nesta could break through it in seconds if she so wished.

“The Lords don’t think you can escape from this,” Azriel said once he was back on his feet. He looked down at her and Nesta saw the small curl of his lip. He too was amused that the Lords could even _think_ to hinder her.

“Should I _test_ the Lords, Azriel?” Nesta asked in a mocking tone. She leaned her body back into the chair. If she was going to spend however long here for some stupid trial she might as well make herself comfortable.

Azriel tipped his head to one side, the black smoke that always surrounded him curling and disappearing. Nesta wondered once again if he could see the magic she had rolling in her own veins.

“I don’t think our High Lord and Lady would appreciate you making a mess of your own trial.” He finally said.

_Our High Lady_. _Feyre was going to be here_.

Nesta gripped the chair a bit tighter. She hoped that Azriel hadn’t noticed her surprise even if it was a silly thought, Azriel noticed everything.

She felt a rumble in the air and knew that her judges had finally arrived. Azriel moved to take his place on her left side.

More lights turned on before her, illuminating a large dark dais that Nesta hadn’t realized was there. A door opened at the bottom of the dais and Cassian stepped out.

His eyes rested on Nesta’s and he gave her his usual shit eating grin. Nesta rolled her eyes. Leave it to Cassian to find humor in this situation.

“Entering the room,” Cassian said in his deep voice, “We have the six war-camp Lords.”

At his word six large Illyrian males stepped out from the shadows and into the light. Their large figures and wings created an eerie set of shadows in front of Nesta’s chair. There were four on each side of the dais, while a space for two remained in the between them. Nesta guessed it was for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Nesta’s eyes ran over each of the men, observing them. Some of the Lords were as large and thick as Cassian, while some of them were thin and lithe like Azriel, but they all radiated that same aura marking them as powerful men. At the very edge of the group she saw her old war-camp Lord, Devlon. She smiled. He would obviously _not_ be on her side.

“Rhysand and Feyre,” Cassian continued once all the Lords were situated, “High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.”

The war-camp Lords tipped their heads in respect as Feyre and Rhysand came in from the shadows and into the light. They were holding hands and wore elegant black clothes in the style of the court.

Nesta took a moment to relish in the surprise that was written in her sister’s face. Feyre wasn’t supposed to know that she had been training for the blood rites like this, but then again no one was expecting Nesta to break through whatever enchantment the High Lord had put over the mountain.

Nesta saw as Rhysand squeezed Feyre’s hand, and her sister’s face turned empty and hard, the face of a High Lady. Together they sat down and once they were properly situated in their chairs the war-camp Lords followed suit. Cassian walked form his position at the bottom of the stairs and towards Nesta. While his back was to her judges he winked at Nesta and she narrowed her eyes at him. He gave her one last grin before taking a spot on her right side and away from her sight.

Nesta looked up at the eight people in front of the dais that would seal her fate. Her eyes rested on her sister and she met her eyes. She hasn’t seen Feyre in six months and wondered what she thought of this wild girl in front of her that wore the furs of animals. Nesta felt the blood and dirt on her skin and her unruly hair sticking each way. Nesta wasn’t the same girl that had left Feyre with cold bitter words on that balcony.

“What are the charges being put against Nesta Archeron?” Rhysand asked. He had the cold look of the High Lord today.

A war-camp Lord responded, “Conspiracy and defiance.”

“Our verdict would be to have her wings clipped,” Lord Devlon said, he had a cruel smile on his face and Nesta didn’t doubt that it was he that would do the clipping.

“I’m not sure what crime would fit a wing clipping,” Feyre said with a growl.

“Her crimes would fit a wing clipping,” The first Lord responded. He leaned forward to glance down the table at Feyre, his braided hair brushing along the long table. “Her actions put many men in danger. Can you imagine what would happen if the rest of the men had broken through the enchantment?”

“The Blood Rites were created to test the might of our people,” a Lord next to Feyre responded. Unlike the most male Illyrians, he had his hair shorn short, but he still wore an impressive beard. His complexion was dark enough to blend into the dark scales of the fighting leathers and Nesta wondered if the scales has grown as an extension of himself. “Illyrian novices are supposed to get through the Rites without the use of their Siphons or flying. Letting them do either of those things defeats the purpose and we are left with a smaller pool of able-bodied Illyrians. We get left with weak Illyrians with nothing to offer.”

“If we clip her wings no one else would dare defy the system,” Another Lord said.

“Do I not get a say in my future,” Nesta yelled. Her voice reverberated throughout the wide and open room. They turned to look down at her with varying emotions spread throughout their faces. Anger, disgust, and in Feyre’s face, pride.

Lord Devlon stood up and pointed a finger straight at her, “You-“

“Let her speak,” Feyre said in a soft voice that overpowered Devlon’s. she stared down at Lord Devlon and didn’t remove her gaze until he had sat down. Feyre then turned back to Nesta and nodded.

“The enchantment on the Blood Rites mountains were put their eons ago by my ancestors,” Rhysand said to her, “How did you break through them?”

_When I was a human I broke through another High Lord’s enchantment, what rule is there that says I can’t break through more_?

Sometimes Nesta wondered if the Cauldron had enhanced some of her human qualities while it changed her.

She gave them a sly grin, “Because I could.” Nesta watched as Rhysand returned her grin and laughed.

“I think that’s a solid answer,” Feyre said with a smile of her own.

“So, we’re just going to let this insubordination go and let her do what she pleases?” Lord Devlon said in an outraged tone. Several of the other Lords nodded their heads in agreement.

The same Lord with the short hair and long beard spoke up, “We should reward her for breaking the enchantment.”

The table immediately erupted into chaos as she felt the two Illyrians at her back shuffling around. It seemed as if Azriel and Cassian were as surprised at this turn of events as she was.

Rhysand stood and slammed his fist on the table and the table quieted. They all shuffled in their chairs, preparing for a fight. Nesta balled her hands into fists and tested the walls holding her magic back. Rhysand turned towards the Illyrians who made the comment.

“What do you mean about _rewarding_ Nesta?” Rhysand said in a slow calculating voice.

The Illyrian man let a smile cross his lips as he leaned back in chair and met Rhysand’s gaze. “You’re the most powerful High Lord in Pyrinthian. In history perhaps. This slip of a girl, a _Made_ _Illyrian_ broke your enchantments.” The man looked up and down the table, considering the faces of each of the Illyrian Lords. “Do you not think she is more useful to us than at the High Lord’s beck and call?” He turned back to Rhysand and cocked an eyebrow, “Mayhap she can help us get rid of _you_.”

Feyre stood up in a heartbeat and slammed the Lord’s face into the table. She growled as he laughed. “You would clip her wings for a small inconvenience but I will _slit_ your _throat_ for _treason_.”

“Feyre,” Rhysand said in a soft voice. Feyre still held the Lord’s face down.

“ _Feyre_ ,” He said once again in a harder tone. Feyre looked up at him, and saw his small nod. Feyre growled as she pushed the Lord’s face in one last time. She walked to her chair and sat down.

Nesta breathed in the power that was radiating in the room. She wondered if she would have to fight for her life one last time or if she could walk out unscathed.

“Nesta keeps her wings,” Rhysand said as he looked up and down the table, daring anyone of the Lords to fight his decision. “And she stays away from _you_ and at _my_ beck and call.”

Feyre stood and looked down at her sister. “We are the High Lord and Lady of the High Court and this is our final verdict and our word is law.”

Rhysand and Feyre walked back into the shadows and into whatever doorway they had available to them. The Lords stood up and left the same way. They seemed to file out but one Lord remained, the Illyrian with the short hair and the beard, the one that had defended Nesta in the same breath that he threatened Rhysand.

He looked down at her and spoke to her, “Your talents are wasted with as the High Lord and Lady’s pet.”

Nesta heard Cassian growl behind her and the Lord grinned down at her before finally leaving. And finally it was just her with Azriel and Cassian. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was expecting the worst but what happened was better.

Cassian turned towards her and leaned down, unfastening her from the shackles that held her down. “Don’t really know why they tied you down like this,” He said as he meticulously worked, “We all know you could have torn your way out if you wanted to.”

“The Lords requested it like this, Cassian.” Azriel answered his friend. Cassian just shrugged and stood up, his work now done. He reached a hand out to help Nesta stand. She took it.

Cassian looked her up and down and as usual, Nesta felt that same _want_ in his eyes and her anger at his forwardness.

“What are you looking at?” She hissed at him and he just grinned in response.

Nesta knew she must’ve looked like quite a sight, all dirty and covered in mud and blood wearing wolf furs she cut out herself. But she wasn’t the same girl that Cassian had met in her father’s estate. She was a storm waiting to erupt and the Blood Rites had proven it.

“Feyre is waiting,” Azriel said, interrupting Nesta and Cassian’s staring contest.

They kept their eyes on each other when Cassian responded to Azriel, “Well let’s not keep them waiting.”

He stepped back and pointed the way forward for and tipped his head towards Nesta and with a smile said, “Ladies first.”

Nesta gave him a sly grin and turned, the footsteps of Cassian and Azriel following right behind her. She opened the door in which she entered, and walked up what seemed to be an endless line of stairs. The only sounds resonating in the stairwell was their footsteps shuffling through the steps, which left Nesta to her thoughts of her sisters.

She wondered if she had escaped the Spring Court yet and how Elain was doing. From what Cassian and Azriel had let slip Elain was helping in the war effort. Nesta was still wondering exactly what Elain was doing to help, but she hoped that she had been kept safe.

For the millionth time Nesta wondered what her sisters would think of the wild and brutal woman she had now become courtesy of the Illyrians. She wondered if they would think any differently of her.

And finally they reached the last step. Only a door stood between her and Feyre. She must have stood there for a moment too long because she felt Cassian rest a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked in a whisper.

Nesta took a deep breath and swallowed down the fear.

_Stop feeling_ , she told herself as she had told herself millions of other times. She nodded and pushed opened the door.

Nesta walked through and saw as Feyre and Rhysand pulled apart from an embrace. They were still dressed in the same fine clothing they wore to the trial and Nesta wondered if they had been waiting out here long.

Nesta opened her mouth to say something, even if she didn’t know what it was, but was cut off by Feyre pulling her into an embrace.

“Oh, Nesta,” She heard Feyre sob into her ear, “How I’ve missed you.”

Nesta wrapped her arms around her sister. The sister that had cared for her for so long.

_How I’ve missed you too, sister_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual this chapter came out a bit longer than I was hoping to, but maybe that’s a good thing since this chapter was such a long time coming.  
> Thank you for reading and sticking with me.


	8. Failotama

_Nesta was blind to what was going on around her but the panic rose in her the same._

_And then she heard the whispers in the wind and she_ knew _._

Leave me alone _, she said. She tried to not let her fear waver her voice._

I need you to help me _, the ethereal voice said in a soft voice. The Cauldron it seemed would forever haunt her dreams._

How _? Nesta asked._

We are one _, the word echoed in her ears._

Nesta’s eyes opened and she sat in bed almost immediately. She breathed in and out slowly and tried to keep herself calm.

_You’re in Velaris_ , She told herself as she scanned her open room. She saw the golden rays of the sun creeping in from her window and stood.

_It was just a dream_ , she repeated to herself as dressed herself in her Illyrian leathers. _Just a dream_.

One week.

It had been one long hard week since Nesta had fought in the Blood Rites and received her tattoos and the right to call herself an Illyrian warrior and yet…

And yet nothing has changed.

Sure, she knew everything about the war that was going on at this point, like the fact that Elain was out in the middle of the battlefields acting as healer for as many of the fae as she could take. She chewed Feyre’s ear out on finding that out.

Feyre was at the end of her line at the Spring Court and ready to come home. There was so much to do, so much planning and fighting that needed to be done and yet she was here, acting as the personal guard for the most powerful High Lord in Pyrinthian.

Nesta had expected battles, blood, for her bones to ache and hurt every night as she worked daily to cut down Hybern bastard but here she was, watching Rhysand read through reports on armies and trying to gain the approval of the other High Lords.

She and Rhysand were in the war room with a large map of Pyrinthian laying between them. It marked every army that was stationed across the land with assorted colors for different Courts and past and possible future battles marked with different colored flags. So many men, so many battles.

None of which Nesta would be a part of.

Nesta burned at the thought. She ran a finger on her cool turquoise stones. All this hard work, all for _nothing_.

She looked up from the map and to Rhysand’s face. He was sitting and sifting through the many reports that Azriel’s men had sent him and every now and then he would wave his hand, and something would move on the map. There was a crease on his brows, a worry line. It was the only indication of the deep stress that he was feeling.

Nesta sat and watched him and they remained in silence.

That was when Nesta felt the usual tingle run under her skin.

It was her magic and it wanted to come out. She had thought herself drained after the Blood Rites and wanted to keep her magic in stock, so she hadn’t used anything. She instead tried to get used to the itch of magic once again, but it was starting to get uncomfortable. She needed to let it out somehow.

She watched as Rhysand flicked a finger and a red flag moved positions. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. Another upcoming battle that she would not be a part of.

And that was when she knew how she’d let all this magic out.

All the pieces on the map moved to the left one inch. Rhysand flicked his finger as he kept reading the reports and everything moved back to its place. Nesta frowned and once again she moved all the pieces two inches to the right. Once again Rhysand flicked his fingers without taking his attention from his paperwork and the pieces moved back to their proper place.

Nesta growled and this time all the pieces fell, strewn all over the map.

Rhysand sighed and dropped the paperwork on the table. “What is it this time, Nesta?”

“ _What is it, Nesta_?” She roared. She stood and slammed her hand on the map. This time all the pieces fell off the table and every chair that lined the table flew back towards the wall.

“I trained for _six months_ , Rhysand. _Six months_ ,” She repeated, “If only to get one _shot_ at the Hyberian bastard that made me _this_. All you can do is have me play the _dog_ and follow you around and guard you. I wasn’t _made_ for this, Rhysand.”

“Feyre believed-“ He started but got cut off by Nesta.

“Feyre has _Elain_ on the battlefields, so don’t use her as an excuse.” They stayed quiet for a moment, with Nesta’s heavy breathing the only sound in the room. She looked at Rhysand’s face, looking for sign of _something_ and then…

“Do you really think I’ll let the war-camp Lords use me, Rhysand?” Nesta said in a low cold voice, “Do you think I would sink so _low_?”

“Hey, Rhys, I-“ In came Cassian but he immediately stopped when he felt the pressure in the room. He looked between Rhysand and Nesta, expecting some sort of sign from one of them, but it was Nesta who turned to leave the room.

“Where are you going, Nesta?” Rhysand asked in a tired voice.

Nesta looked down at him from her shoulders, “I’ve got magic to release, _Lord Rhysand_ , and I’ve got no other way to release it. Leave me be until I’m needed.”

She looked up at Cassian when she was before the door and saw the question in his eyes. She ignored it as she brushed past him and tried to get somewhere with open space in which she could release the magic.

_Oh, if only I was in the field_ , She thought as she walked down the long empty hallways.

Nesta had learned while on these days alone, that the best dummies weren’t the straw ones out on the training fields but the ones she created herself. She had mastered her magic enough to be able to create opponents out of dirt and mud. It taught her a lot more, because this way whenever she hit them it felt like she was hitting a real person. It also helped her take out her frustration when she imagined the mud figures to be real people.

Ever since arriving to Velaris she created her own practice ground. She was right outside of the city and from her position she could see the twinkling lights of Velaris shining from the top of the mountains all the way down to the valley where most of the city laid. This field was her space, surrounded by woods and water. It was all she really needed.

A mud figure appeared before her, a feint to the left and a stroke of her sword down the middle and it went down. She quickly created another figure behind her, and she held her shield up as her creation hit it hard. She pushed back with her shield and watched as they stumbled. She ran forward and aimed high for their neck.

The mud spilled all over her and she imagined that she was out in the field, fighting against real flesh and blood fae.

And then Nesta felt someone’s unfamiliar magical signature behind her. She did what she was taught to do, she turned to face them and threw her sword at them in the same fluid movement.

She saw as her sword was immediately stopped in midair, and the perpetrator was none other than the war-camp Lord that had both insulted and praised her at her trial.

“What are you doing here?” She said with a snarl as she tightened her hold on her shield and moved her body into a defensive position.

The war-camp Lord gave her a large grin, his bright white smile in stark contrast to the rest of his complexion and his dark eyes shining. “I just wanted to see if you were as strong as they said you were.”

Her sword was pushed back forcibly and Nesta jumped up to catch it. Once it was back in her hand she gave it one twirl after another to work her wrist up for whatever fight this Lord might give her. They started to circle one another. Nesta’s turquoise Siphons started to brighten and she grinned in anticipation. She felt herself tremble with want for the _fight_ , for the _blood_.

“And what do you think?” She asked with a tip of her chin. A show of defiance, of fearlessness.

His face hardened as he reached for his back and pulled a sword for each hand out, but no shield. “I believe I need to find out what you’re _truly_ capable of.”

He ran forward and Nesta met him in the middle. She moved her shield up to cover herself and he hit it with his swords.

He put his whole weight behind each of his hits, and Nesta could hear the creaking of the metal shield. She gathered her strength up and pushed him back. He slid against the dirt floor.

“Why do you use a physical shield?” He asked her. Nesta didn’t respond so he continued to speak, “We are some of the strongest Illyrians. Only the weak ones use an actual shield.”

Nesta took a moment to look at the man before her. Even though he had a dark complexion, you could still see the faint outline of the Illyrians tattoos crawling up his neck and on his wrists. The same tattoos that now covered her body.

Nesta dropped the shield and moved to pull a second sword from her back. Her opponent’s grin widened once she dropped the shield.  Her magic was strong, if she needed to defend herself she could create her own barrier. She twirled the swords around the air, warming herself up before they were pulled into a fight once more.

They circled each other once more in anticipation for the upcoming battle. Nesta saw that her was taller and more muscular than her, as most Illyrians tended to be. He had four Siphons, one on the back of each hand and one on each shoulder. She saw their murky depths light up. It seemed as if he was as excited about this skirmish as she was.

They both let out a loud war cry and surged forward. They met in the middle with a clang of steel on steel and sparks flew from where their swords met. The man smirked at her, his body towering over her small frame and Nesta growled and pushed him back.

They pushed and pulled against each other, the sounds of their swords ringing throughout the valley. Cassian had called sword fighting a dance, and unlike the dances planned by the sycophants back home, her blood _sang_ at the meeting of metal and the movement.

Nesta aims her left hand to his abdomen while her right hand goes high for his neck. He’s quick and stops her right before she can get any closer.

“You’re good,” He says with a smile playing on his lips. Nesta knows he can feel the thrill of the fight in his blood.

“I’ve had a good teacher,” She says with a smirk. She sees his posture relax just one little tiny _inch_ , and the she pounces. She pulls her sword down the length of his, moving quickly as she was taught so he would be caught off guard. Right as the tip of her swords touch the hilt of his, she twists her wrists and in his surprise his swords come lose and fly in the air.

Nesta flicks her wrists and the swords come down, tip first, and lodge themselves into the ground. The man bent down towards his swords and Nesta pushed them a little bit further into the ground. He looked up at her and she grinned. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

He tried to pull them out but they were lodged deep. He stopped and heaved a deep sigh and laughed, “Cassian always had a flair for dramatics.”

He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, “But you wouldn’t fight against a defenseless opponent, now would you?”

“I never expect the battle to be fair,” She said, remembering the words Cassian had told her when she first stepped into the ring with him.

The man rose to his full height, and tipped his head back and laughter. “Oh, Cassian was a good teacher indeed.”

He immediately bent down and punched the ground. A silver circle emitted from his form and hit Nesta head on.

Nesta was thrown back as she felt the cool metal of her weapons slip out of her hands. She wasn’t prepared for this. She curled up into a ball, her arms covering her head and she tried to calm herself. She landed with a hard thud on her back she gave a deep groan of pain as her back arched and she uncurled from her ball. She turned onto her front and scanned the area for her mysterious opponent.

His blast was strong enough to not just throw her halfway across the field, but throw every piece of dirt and debris into the air. It was hard to see anything, but Nesta guessed that was what he wanted.

She stood slowly, every second moving her eyes across and feeling the area.

Nothing. He can’t just disappear like that.

“I’m not going to fight a shadow!” She yelled into the nothingness, “Come on out, you coward!”

She saw a rush of air to her left and turned towards it, ready to meet it head on. She was once again tricked the Illyrian Lord came up at her unprotected back.

He stood over her and gave her a rueful smile, and the cold metal on his knife on her throat. “If only Cassian had taught you how to fight shadows.”

Nesta flashed him a wicked grin in return, “If only you knew how to fight a _storm_.”

A gust of wind blew hard and threw him off her. She stood and stared down at her opponent. She stretched her hands out and all around her rose small droplets of water. A cool wind blew in the valley and turned the droplets into clear and sharp ice. Her turquoise Siphons glowed and she saw a hint of something cross her adversary’s face.

Nesta tipped her head up and nodded towards him. The ice barreled towards him. She watched as he raised his arms but he couldn’t do anything. He disappeared against the barrage of ice and she smiled. Her first real battle it seemed, had been won by her.

“It seems as if none of the war-camp Lords are really worth anything,” She mused.

“I guess you’ve just been going against the wrong Lords,” A deep male voice replied.

Nesta gasped and turned but was immediately thrown back on the ground by a hard punch to the face. Before her once more stood the tall and imposing figure of the war-camp Lord that she had thought defeated.

“It’ll take more than just a little ice to bring me down, _Nesta_.” He said her name mockingly.

Nesta felt a copper taste well up in her mouth and spit it out. A new red spot fell on the ground as she raised herself up and wiped the blood off her mouth.

She moved into a fighting position and said, “I’ve got more than just that, _Lord_.”

Nesta moved towards him.

A punch to the left that he sidestepped effortlessly and he moved his body down, ready to push ahead and ram her down. Nesta opened her wings wide and moved upwards, her body forming an arc right above his body. She landed kneeled right behind him, and twisted her body, moving the earth to swallow him up. Once again a silver barrier radiated off of him and she was thrown off her feet once again.

“Try harder!”  He emerged from the dirt once again without a single drop of dirt on his own body. “You won’t get to any battles any time soon. Maybe this is why High Lord Rhysand keeps you around as his pet.”

“I am no ones pet!” Nesta screamed. She rose and a fire erupted around her.

She pushed it towards him, but he walked right through it and towards her. The only thing of his that Nesta seemed to be touching was the silver orb still touching him.

That’s when Nesta realized what her real problem was: She needed to break his barrier. She ran towards him but she his hand move and his barrier move towards her.

_Not this time_ , she thought with gritted teeth. She stopped and moved her hands in front of her. Her turquoise barrier met his and she was pushed back a bit, her feet scraping along the ground. But she buckled down and held steady. He had thrown her so many times before and he won’t do it again. She felt a pressure from the front again but she continued forward. She wasn’t stopping now.

Nesta took step after step until finally only a few feet separated her and her opponent. She looked up at his face and saw sweat on his brow and his brow twisted in concentration. She smiled as she moved her hands up, touching his own silver barrier.

She felt an electric pressure move up her arms and into her body but no, she couldn’t let go. She had to _hold on_.

She fell to her knees and the man fell with her, but his barrier held on. It took her days to break Rhysand’s barrier, but she’ll have to break this one in minutes if she wants to win this fight. Nest dug deep inside herself, into that bottomless pit of power that she was given- no, that she _stole_.

Cracks began to appear on his silver shield and Nesta concentrated hard on that. If she chipped at it long enough it would shatter but she just had to hold on…

She heard him groan and she wasn’t sure if it was in pain or exertion. Either way she wanted this done. She had to prove that she had earned her tattoos too.

The cracks kept getting bigger, and although she could feel him trying, only one of them was coming out of this and she knew it wasn’t him.

Nesta gave out one final war cry as she broke his barrier, leaving him defenseless and with her fire at his heels.

“Do you have anything to say?” She saw in a cracking voice.

He chuckled and it turned into a full laugh. “You got me.” He stood up and held his hands out, “You won, Nesta Archeron.

She will the flames away and stood, facing her opponent once more. She remembered him and his words. “You once threatened to use me as a weapon against your High Lord, what did you challenge me for.”

“He wanted to test you.” Cassian said as he came out of the smoke with Rhysand beside him. They both looked impressed.

“Test me for what?” Nesta said.

“Amari,” Rhysand said, “Wants to show us something, but he could only show us if he tested your worth.”

“My worth?” Nesta turned her gaze to her opponent-Amari. “I know my worth, and I don’t need _anyone_ testing it out.”

“I’ve realized that but…” He paused, heaved a sigh, then continued. “I’ll explain when I show you them.”  He spread his wings, “Just follow me.”

Amari took to the skies followed by Nesta, Cassian, and Rhysand. They weren’t sure where they were going, but they would find out when they got there.

As it turned out, Amari had been hiding his own Legion of female warriors, personally trained by him.

“Why did you never tell me?” Rhysand asked as the four of them observed the women in their training.

“Well, Rhysand,” Amari responded, “You tend to get a little _cocky_ , when you’re proven right.”

“I do _not_.” Rhysand indignantly said.

Cassian just laughed and shook his head, “Rhys, brother, you do.”

Rhysand just huffed and they returned to watching the women in silence.

“I’m planning on having _all_ of them entered in the next Blood Rites,” Amari said, “Your girl Nesta showed me that there was nothing to hide them for.”

“Then what do you need me for?” Nesta asked. She thought he wanted her to train them once he presented them but by the looks of it, the women need no training.

“I want you to lead them.”

“Me?” Nesta pointed to herself, surprised that Amari, an old war-camp Lord would even have considered the idea.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Cassian said trying to appease her fears.

“They’re a Legion of woman,” Amari spread his arms towards the only men present, him, the High Lord, and the Commander, “The women don’t need another man telling them what to do, they need a woman, a proven warrior.”

They all looked at her expectantly.

“So what do you say?” Amari asked, his voice hard and low, his Lord’s voice.

Nesta’s only response was a wicked grin.


	9. Darkbringer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to the bitter dynamic that Nesta and Mor had in ACOWAR, I’d like to believe that the two were the best of gal pals and they’d drink wine every night and discuss The Boys.

Nesta named them the Faoiltiama. Or at least Amren named them the Faoiltiama. She said that it meant ‘wolf women’. Nesta thought it was fitting and took it for herself, especially given how her women had earned their reputations in the Blood Rites.

Spring and Night had finally mended their differences, or at least they were willing to work together to defeat Hybern. Feyre’s inside job was good enough to seal the rift between the two Courts, even though Mor told Nesta the scars would never mend.

“Tamlin,” Mor explained to her one night, “Let us have this one victory because he cared about his own court in his own way. Open battle between the two courts would mean utter destruction.”

“For both courts?” Nesta asked.

Mor tipped her head back in laughter, “For him, Nesta. Rhysand would demolish the Summer Court for his High Lady and Feyre would help him.”

Nesta raised a brow, “And the Inner Court?”

Mor gave her a smirk, “Well, we can never say no to a conflict being resolved in such an enticing manner.”

Having been given her own legion to command Nesta was beginning to realize that the war with Hybern was, at this point, nothing less than an absolute mess. Sure, the Night Court managed to secure their own borders well enough and gained the Summer Court as an ally, but they were still behind. None of the other Courts had jumped to join them and to win this war, they _needed_ their support.

Ianthe, as the schemer she was known to be escaped the Summer Court before the alliance was finished, depriving both Feyre and Nesta of their appropriate revenge. Nesta knew she was still out there somewhere, probably helping Hybern in their machinations.

“We can win this war, with or without them,” Feyre declared at one of their war meetings, but the other members of her court disagreed.

“Sure, we can protect _our_ Court,” Azriel stated, “But the rest of Pyrinthian stays unprotected and opened. Hybern could gain a foothold through them.”

“And then we’ll have to fight Hybern back from our borders for the rest of eternity if that does happen,” Amren added. “Sorry, Feyre, but we need the other Courts.”

Feyre sighed and slumped into her seat. Her slender fingers ran over the map of Pyrinthian, over the lines that were etched into the wood for borders, rivers, and mountains. Nesta watched as Rhysand reached for her unoccupied hand and gave it a squeeze. Cassian had told her that mates could communicate in other ways, and she wondered what the two of them were saying ~~between~~ to each other.

“Then what would you suggest?” Rhysand asked in a low, soft voice.

“Give them a show of force,” Mor answered, “Bring our troops to where Hybern can see.”

“But that will be practically _asking_ for a major confrontation.” Amren didn’t seem to be liking the idea. Thus far they’ve had small skirmishes on their land and managed to overrun Hybern from the Summer Court without any major casualties. They had been calling it a ‘war’ for a while now, but Nesta knew it wasn’t a true war. A real war entailed major casualties and higher stakes, and Mor was asking for one.

“Then the other Courts will realize we weren’t just making up Hybern as a threat,” Mor paused and looked at everyone that was gathered in the room.  “The wind is in their favor right now. No one believed us now and they can chip at us little by little. But if we have a battle somewhere noticeable, then the other Courts won’t deny our allegations now.”

“We’re going to need your father’s armies for that.” Rhysand said. Everyone in the room tensed up at his statement, but none for so than Mor.

“He’s not going to give it to us,” Mor scoffed.

“We have to at least _try_ ,” Feyre interjected.

Mor just shook her head. “My _father_ , does everything he can to undermine Rhys and he will use this to tear the world apart.” She stood, her rich red robes swishing around her and looked up and down the table, “I will go with you to the Court of Nightmares, but know that my father will not grant the aid needed.” And with that she walked out of the room.

Cassian whistled, “Well, that was intense.”

Amren smacked him and shook her head and then nodded towards Rhys and Feyre, “What’s the plan?”

It was Feyre who responded, “You’re taking care of matters here in Velaris, Azriel, keep your shadows searching for any information on what could possibly be Hybern’s next move,” And then she looked at Cassian and Nesta, “You two will come with us to the Court of Nightmares.”

And thus, the meeting was adjourned.

Nesta and Cassian had recently taken to walking to their rooms together after late night war room meetings, their rooms were right next to each other after all.

“What is the Court of Nightmares like?” She asked him.

“Nowhere I’d like you to be,” Was his only response.

A crease formed on Nesta’s forehead, “Why not?”

“The people in that Court aren’t exactly… _good_ people.” He said after much thought.

“The Inner Court isn’t made up entirely out of _good_ people.” Nesta reminded him.

Cassian laughed and bumped into her, “Rhys likes to keep appearances.”

“So no one messes with you?” Nesta’s mouth was turning up into a smile and Cassian gave her an opened toothy grin.

“Exactly why.” He grinned down at her. They stopped at her door and Cassian leaned against the doorway, his impressive muscles highlighted by the dim light in the hallway.

Nesta leaned on the other side of the doorway, and tipped her head back and smiled at him. “Will I like it?”

“They’re…” He paused for a second, searching for the right word to describe them as, then, “A little cold. Frigid more like.”

Nesta realized that she had been called those words multiple times in her life. She leaned her head onto the doorway.

_Nowhere I’d like you to be_.

“You can’t tell me where I can’t and can go.”

“You’re right,” Cassian said after a heavy sigh, “But the Court of Nightmares is a nightmare.”

“Let me decide for myself at least.”

Cassian reached a hand out and cupped her cheek, he thick calluses catching on her still soft skin. Nesta raised a hand and held his wrist and she closed her eyes.

“You make your own choices,” Cassian whispered, “You’re strong enough now.”

He let out a breath and it stuttered out. She sniffed the air and felt a warm and sweet aroma in the air and a warmness in her belly. Panic began to set in.

_This shouldn’t be happening_ , _I shouldn’t feel like this_.

She pushed his hand away and moved towards her door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She closed the door in his face and she waited, knowing he was still outside and she didn’t move until she heard his footsteps walking down the hall.

War was coming, and every war-camp was sending as many Illyrians through the Blood Rites as they could. They craved the blood and chaos of war and no one wanted to be left behind. As such the Faoiltiama was growing steadily week by week as more women passed through the Blood rites.

Now Nesta’s Faoiltiama was nearly at a thousand members, and as the Commander of the small legion of women she had appointed Lieutenants, the three women that she took the Blood Rites with, Elize, Ramsii, and Aria.

Nesta stood in front of them in what Feyre had teasingly called, her warrior best. The Faoiltiama were the wolf women, and as such Nesta decided that she would use the wolf skin she created for herself as more than just a keepsake of the Blood Rites. She wore it as a cloak, with one end of each side on her shoulders, it then fell below the wings that grew from her back, and the ends of the wolf fur dragged on the floor. It was the finishing touches to her fighting leathers and Nesta thought it made her look like the wolf the women were named after.

“Elize, I need you to have a force patrolling the western border of the Court and assisting the men whenever possible,” Nesta commanded, pointing to each of the women as she gave them instructions, “Aria, you’ll be patrolling over Velaris. Our High Lord and Lady want the city to be as protected as possible.” She paused in front of Ramsii, the last to receive her orders. “Spring Court is finally allowing us into their territory. I need you to recon the area for the Night Court. Take as many women as you need, but remember to look for areas specifically near the western border and especially the border with Summer.”

The three women nodded their understanding, opened their wings, and took to the skies. They left Nesta behind, her cloak swirling behind her from the force of her Lieutenant’s wings.

“Being a Commander does suit you,” Cassian said at her back.

She turned and smirked up at him, “Well some of us do take our duties very seriously.”

She brushed past him. It was nearly time for them to meet with the rest of the Inner Court before they flew to the Court that she had been hearing so much about.

“Aw, Nesta, you know I take my duties seriously.” Cassian said as he followed right behind her.

“Sometimes I wonder.” She said in a sigh.

“Seeing as I’ve been Commander for _far_ longer than you have been alive, I don’t think you should wonder much.”

They finally reached the front courtyard of Rhysand and Feyre’s home, everyone in the Inner Court gathered for their last instructions. Once Feyre noticed Cassian and Nesta taking the last steps towards she sent off the court guards, a knowing smile on her face.

“Nice to see you two together,” Feyre said as she walked towards the two.

“Not nice, actually,” Nesta replied too quickly, “He keeps bothering me and won’t let me anywhere alone.”

Cassian opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Rhysand walking up to them. He wrapped a hand around Feyre’s shoulders and kissed her temple, then looked up at their company, a grin on his face. “Are you ready for today?”

“You know I love terrorizing the citizens of the Hewn City,” Cassian said over a laugh.

Rhysand nodded towards Nesta, “And you?”

Nesta nodded, “I believe everyone should know that the Faoiltiama are nothing to mess with.”

Mor walked up to them, looking resplendent in a maroon dress that highlighted her pale skin and golden hair. “I’m winnowing you two-“ She nodded towards Cassian and Nesta “-To the Court, having you two fly all the way there would take too long.”

She looked towards Rhysand and Feyre, the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court dressed in black and looking as regal as ever. “I’ll see you there.”

Mor moved between Cassian and Nesta, held onto each of their elbows, and they vanished into darkness. One breath, and they were not in the courtyard of the Lord and Lady’s residence in Velaris.

Once Mor let go of them, Nesta walked forward and began to slowly breath in and out. She appreciated the quick movement of winnowing, but being pulled into the dark like that always reminded her of _that_ night.

“Nesta,” She heard Cassian whisper behind her, “Are you okay?”

Nesta straightened up and tipped her head back and took one slow breath in, both to calm down and take in the cold smell of the mountains. “Yes, I will be.”

There was another soft _whoosh_ of air and she heard Rhysand and Feyre’s soft voices behind them.

“Cassian, Nesta,” Mor said, “We’re going in first.”

Nesta nodded her understanding, and moved so she stood right behind Mor, yet still beside Cassian. The three of them would come in first to introduce the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Mor began to walk forward and Cassian and Nesta dutifully walked right behind her. Shoulders back, chest out, chip up, Nesta walked as if she owned the very ground she walked on. She couldn’t show any type of weakness, especially to the Court of Nightmares.

They walked down a long strip that led to a dais. People lined both sides of the walkway and Nesta saw two people standing at the foot of the dais, one of them looked eerily like Mor. Nesta guessed they were the horrible family she had heard snippets about.

She heard whispers and sneers as they walked down the long walk to the dais, but every time Nesta looked out at the crowd, the people turned their faces or gave her ugly looks. It seemed as if they too, like the older Illyrians, didn’t find her fit to lead her own legion. She would show them, she would show _everyone_ what Nesta Archeron, leader of the Faoiltiama, sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, and former human, was capable of.

They finally reached the dais, but while Nesta and Cassian remained at the foot of the stairs, Mor walked her way up. Halfway to the top she turned, her maroon dress spilling onto the step below her and outlining her turn with crisp lines.

She spoke in a loud and clear voice, “Welcome your High Lord and Lady, Rhysand and Feyre.”

The door at the end of the walkway opened and showed Rhysand and Feyre looking as radiant as the moon and its stars in their regal black clothes. They made their way across the room quickly. They reached the dais and brushed past their Inner Court as they made their way to the two thrones that stood at the top of the dais.

Once they reached them they turned and they observed the Court of Nightmares with cold and hard eyes.

“Bow,” Feyre commanded in a tone that offered no warmth.

The room turned quiet and bowed before the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

After their brief moment in public, the Inner Court was whisked away for dinner with the Stewards of the Court of Nightmares.

Dinner was served in a small well-lit room, with enough seating to fit the Inner Court and then just Keir, Mor’s father and the Steward of the Hewn City. Nesta and Cassian weren’t on guard duty tonight, that task instead was left to Keir’s Darkbringers. They were men in solid black, and they stood right at the door and a few at each interval.

The dinner was silent, save for the sounds of people eating, and it remained that way for the entirety of the meal. No one spoke a word until the last plate of the night was whisked away, and it was Keir who began.

“So, Lord Rhysand,” Keir said as he dabbed his lips with a napkin, “What is it that you request of me?”

“As I’m sure you have noticed,” Rhysand said in a slow drawl, “We are in a war.”

His steward raised an eyebrow. Feyre sighed. It seemed as if he _knew_ what they wanted, but he just wanted to hear it.

“We have need of your army,” Feyre said, “We need Darkbringer in this war.”

“What’s in it for me?” He asked, a glint of desire in his eye.

“My continued support and protection of course,” Rhysand responded.

He laughed right in their faces. “Oh, I’ve heard what happened to Velaris. It seems as if I can’t get _much_ of your protection.” He leaned forward, “But my people want to come up and see the skies. Maybe if they could get into Velaris…”

Mor immediately rose from her spot, her hand slamming against the table in anger and desperation. “No.”

He leaned back and raised an eyebrow at his daughter, then turned towards Rhysand, “Are you going to put my armies at stake by listening to my whore daughter?”

“Rhys, _no_.” Mor said, a bit more forcefully and yet a bit quieter.

Feyre reached a hand out and laid it on top of her husband’s hand. He looked her in the eye and they both nodded, their hands tightening around each other’s. Nesta wondered what passed between them.

Rhysand heaved a heavy sigh and forced his gaze from Feyre’s face to His face. “Mor’s in charge of Velaris, and I must follow the wishes of _my second_.”

The other man sighed as well, “Very well, then I believe we are done here,”

Keir stood and nodded towards every person seated, “This dinner was lovely but I believe I must continue with my peaceful life.”

He strode out the dining room, his Court following closely behind until it was only the Inner Court left. Once they were gone Cassian moved towards and chair and sprawled his body over it while Azriel acted a bit more refined.

“Guess that was a dead end,” Cassian said as he sorted through the leftover. Nesta guessed that being raised in the streets taught him to be less picky about his food.

“It can’t be a dead end,” Feyre softly said.

They sat silent with the only sound being Cassian’s munching. Nesta glanced at him and saw as he slowly cracked a bone with his teeth to get more meat out of the bone when suddenly…

“It won’t be a dead end,” Nesta said.

They looked down at her. Cassian grinned, “What do you have in mind?”

Nesta looked towards her sister and Rhysand, “Send a message to Azriel. I want my Lieutenants here and six Faoiltiama of there choosing.”

They nodded, but they didn’t question her plan. It seemed as if they were willing to risk it all just to have the strength of the Darkbringer with them.

Given the fact that the Faoiltiama weren’t natural winnowers, the Inner Court ended up staying a few extra days in the Hewn City while they waited for Nesta’s plan to unfold. Keir questioned their lengthy stay, but he couldn’t argue against Rhysand’s logic that he needed to teach Feyre the inner workings of the Court of Nightmares.

Then three days after the disastrous dinner, Nesta’s Lieutenants appeared in the Court of Nightmares with six extra women in tow. They snuck them in behind everyone’s backs, Nesta didn’t want anyone to know that there was more than just one Faoiltiama in the Hewn City.

Nesta waited until the Court of Nightmares was in its night cycle to begin her plan. She hadn’t told anyone else in the Inner Court what her plan was other than her need for the women and utter secrecy, but tonight they would realize the full extent of her plan and the blood that was required.

“Remember,” Nesta said as she walked in front of her women, “Be as quiet and as quick as possible. I can take out any Darkbringers that you can’t take care of, but we have to keep moving until we reach the Stewards quarters.”

They were in her dimly lit room, Nesta stood before them while the other nine women were huddled on the ground, whispering to each other so as to not raise suspicion.

“Who’s going to give the killing blow?” Elize asked.

Nesta took out her long sword out from the scabbard on her back, and ran a gentle hand along the sharp and cold metal. “I’ll handle that one.”

They walked out of the room in an arrowlike formation, six women at the front, the Faoiltiama Lieutenants in the middle, and at the very end Nesta who was holding the barrier right behind them. Someone could walk in front of them, but it would be very hard for them to attack the women from the back.

They moved forward as quickly as possible, the women all moving as a machine to bring as many of the Darkbringer men to the ground. Nesta helped by pushing her magic towards them whenever it was need, and soon they stood before the door of the Steward. The women gathered around the door and Nesta brushed past them and right into the room.

Keir, Mor’s blonde and cruel father stood up in bed almost immediately. The women moved in behind Nesta but remained as the door as Nesta moved closer and closer to Keir’s bed.

Nesta could hear the incoming footsteps of more Darkbringer men coming, and so waved a hand, and a turquoise barrier surrounded the room. Nothing would come in or out of this room unless Nesta herself willed it.

“What are you doing here?” Keir hissed as he came out of his bed, then began to yell. “Guards! Guards?!”

Nesta gave him a wicked smile, “There’s no one coming to help you, _Lord Keir_ , former Steward of the Court of Nighmares.”

Keir just grunted, and threw a few bits of magic Nesta’s way, magic that she brushed off like a leaf.

“ _Former_?” He practically screeched, “I am no _former_ , I am still the current until the day I die!”

“The I guess today is a good day to die.” She ran forward and in one swift movement cut Keir’s head clean off his neck. His head fall to the floor with a loud _thump_ , his glassy brown eyes staring up at the ceiling in surprise.

Nesta felt a tremor run through the building, and knew that whatever Stewardship that belonged to Keir would pass along to his next heir. Nesta grabbed the head by his hair, waving a hand that made the turquoise barrier disappear. She turned and brushed past her Faoiltiama and right out the door.

Many members of the Darkbringer lined the hallway, but they didn’t make a move towards the Illyrian women and instead stared at the head that Nesta held in her arms.

They walked throughout the many hallways and rooms of the Court of Nightmares, Nesta at the helm of the bunch. Every one of the citizens of the Hewn City stared, shocked that the Inner Court would deem Keir’s death necessary.

They finally reached the main room where the dais was located. The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were sitting on the thrones, Mor at their side. Nesta threw the head as far and as hard as she could, and watched it sailed through the sky and landed right at Mor’s feet. Mor didn’t hide the look of disgust and relief on her face.

Nesta got down on one knee, and the Faoiltiama followed her lead. “What do we do next, _Stewardess_?”

Mor tipped her head up and looked out at the ground that had begun to gather. Her eyes remained on the Darkbringers that were beginning to pile in with the rest of the regular citizens.

“Now we go to war,” Mor said as power began to emit from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I update like once every month but I’d like to think that I’m uploading long enough chapters.  
> I am planning on finishing these fic, but July was Camp Nanowrimo and I’m working on a personal project alongside this so updates will be slow.  
> Anyways, thank you all for reading, commenting, and making it known that you liked it. I really appreciate it.


End file.
